


A turn of Fortune

by Dragoncounsel121



Category: GOT7
Genre: Chance Meetings, College AU, Eventual Romance, Fanboy!Jaebeom, Fluff and Angst, Idol!Youngjae, M/M, Misunderstandings, Slice of Life, Still Idols, bts ensemble - Freeform, idol!jinyoung, lots of friendships, miscellaneous, other JYPE idols, side markson, side sope, what if got7 were not got7
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2019-09-07 01:24:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 56,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16844344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragoncounsel121/pseuds/Dragoncounsel121
Summary: Sometimes alternate paths still lead to similar places. Maybe Jaebeom and Jinyoung were always meant to meet, no matter what choices they may have made.





	1. When Threads are Woven

Jaebeom's alarm screeched at exactly 6am every morning. Like always he slapped it around at least twice before finally dragging himself up at 6:15 and stumbling half asleep to the bathroom. The one good thing about being up this early? He didn't have to compete with the human peacock he called a roommate. It was almost worth the peace and quiet.

He took his time with the shower, running the water hot and letting it wash the sleep from his body until the tiny bathroom filled up with steam. By the time he walked out, it was 6:50. He had just enough time to make himself a cup of coffee and toast some bread to go with his mom's homemade strawberry jam.

7:04 and he was sitting there with his toast untouched hands fiddling around his camera adjusting and readjusting trying to find the perfect settings.

7:10 and he saw a smudge of maroon rounding the corner down the block just barely in sight. With a breath, he draws the sheer white curtains, standing just enough to the side so that his view was un obstructed.

7:10:14 and the biker is close enough to make out, drowned in an oversized university sweater and the huge backpack slung over his slender shoulders. Jaebeom found the button on his camera and held his fingers at the ready.

7:10: 30 and he saw the most beautiful face in the world. Soft featured but not feminine, with a defined brow but a tender mouth, parted slightly to breathe puffs ofair that turned misty white in the cool morning air.

7:10: 31 and he clicked the button too late. The focus was wrong and the picture would blur, no matter how slightly.

7:10: 32 and he turned to follow his biker, to try again.

7:10: 33 and Jaebeom clicked again, another picture of the biker boy's retreating back.

7:11 and the boy disappeared into the treeline that separated his apartment building from the one next door.

With a groan, Jaebeom put his camera away and tore a big mouthful out of his cold jam soggy toast. He won't really know until he gets the film to the dark room, but he doesn't have much faith. He would have to try again tomorrow.

The art buildings are technically open 24/7, management being more than familiar with the erratic habits of its students, but the chemicals stored in the dark room meant that it could only be used while a supervisor or trained TA was on duty. Getting Mark out of bed before 10 am was wishful thinking, on his off days it was laughable. Jaebeom could only wait for the first teacher in the door.

Jaebeom flopped back onto his bed and set another phone alarm. Might as well try get some use out of the three hours he still had before his first class of the day.

Five hours later he sat on a table outside a coffee shop just off campus, looking down at a plate of strawberry souffle pancakes and his freshly developed pictures.

It was blurry. Or rather, it was blurry enough that the fine details were nothing like Jaebeom, who had seen the real thing, was looking for. It ruins the mystery boy's face, the focus of his eyes looking far into the distance, the tenderness of his plush lips, and gentle slope of his jaw.

With a sigh Jaebeom tossed it in the folder with his other failed attempts. He's starting to get a decent little pile. At least his camera is well acquainted with the boy's umber brown hair.

"You know I'm kind of impressed."

Jaebeom bolted up hands, quickly shoving the pictures in his folder until he realized it was Mark's voice hovering above his shoulder.

"Jesus, don't do that," he grumbled.

Mark ignored him, instead plucking up one of the photos between his fingers.

"I'm serious, you managed to take all these from almost the same location and time every day. I can see the season changing. That takes effort. I almost wish you could turn these in." Jaebeom could practically hear the judgement dripping off his voice. "Maybe you could even get some good static shots if you grow a pair and actually _talk to the guy_."

"Yeah, that'll go over well," Jaebeom slammed his head back down on the table, "Hey, I've been watching you at ass o'clock in the morning for the past four weeks, wanna do a photoshoot?"

Mark only laughed at him.

-o-

Jinyoung blamed everything bad that has ever happened ever on Jackson Wang. WWI? Jackson. Napoleon? Jackson. The Great Tokyo earthquake of 64. That was _clearly_ Jackson laughing way too loud again at way too early in the morning. Before making the worst decision in his life to room with his twice proven discussion partner when he was mercilessly abandoned by the dorms two years ago– it sounded like a decent idea at the time – Jinyoung had never even considered a class that began before 10AM.

But _that_ was not how Jackson worked.

Sometimes Jinyoung wondered what the universe was thinking when it made Jackson Wang not only an incurable early bird who liked to greet the sunrise with American Trap music and organic soymilk, but also a an attention-needy Pavlovian hound who required intimate socialization every second of every day.

Jinyoung could ignore early birds, he has for the better part of his 24 years of living. But even Buddha himself couldn’t ignore Jackson barging in every 5 minutes with reminders not to skip breakfast, lectures about the benefits of protein smoothies over Jinyoung’s preferred three cups of coffee, and by the way Jinyoung wouldn’t believe what happened with Jooheon and the boys yesterday! By the time they’d had their breakfasts and Jackson had skipped out the door for his jog or fencing practice or whatever, Jinyoung was so thoroughly awake he couldn’t go back to sleep.

Seriously, he’s _tried_.

With no other recourse, Jinyoung was forced to pick up some throwaway GE credits he didn’t need to pay attention to during the first week of the semester and resigned himself to climbing on his bike (also courtesy of Jackson's health nut tendencies) at 6:30 sharp every morning. The first few days, the 40 minute trip nearly killed him, pushing muscles he didn’t know he had, much less used. By the time he’d gotten halfway to school he was a red sweaty mess.

If that wasn’t enough, on his third day, he accidentally locked eyes with some cute guy looking out of one of the apartment windows while he was gross and basically falling off his bike.

Jinyoung could have cried. More importantly, he made Jackson cry once his roommate ambushed him at lunch.

Jinyoung sighed and swung himself off the bike seat before leading it to the art buildings, where the racks were far emptier before heading off to his usual prowling grounds in the literature department. 

He half slept through his first class, the only thing keeping him awake being the journal entry the professor forced on them every class. If it were only possible for him to write with his eyes closed, by god he would have tried. By the time he trudged out of the room, Jinyoung was bleary-eyed and in no way prepared for his two fresh-faced juniors shifting nervously foot to foot outside of class. They looked up at him guiltily, puppy eyes big and glistening.

Jinyoung groaned.

“You didn’t do the reading did you?” he said flatly.

“Sorry, hyung,” Youngjae put his hands together, and dipped his head in apology. His golden brown dyed hair spilled over like caramel off his head. Jinyoung could use a nice, steamy caramel mocha latte right now. “We had a vlive event late last night. I planned to read in bed but I kind of... passed out.”

Jinyoung sighed.

“I know, I was watching." he said. "At least a hundred of those hearts were mine, Youngjae-yah. What about the other idiot?”

He leveled his gaze at lanky long-limbed Yugyeom who shrank away until he looked like he was trying to cram his larger frame into Youngjae’s shadow.

“It’snotmyfaultpracticeranreallylateandIcompletelyforgot!” he yelped.

Jinyoung raised an eyebrow and pressed his lips into a thin line and waited for Yugyeom to elaborate.

“What he means is he pulled another all-nighter in the practice rooms and only remember he had class today when he saw the sunrise while running down to get more coffee from the vending machine.” Youngjae said with a soft chuckle.

This was the fourth time this month Yugyeom had foregone any sort of rest in favor of practice. His eyes were beginning to take on that wide strained look, and the circles beneath his eyes looked bruised and unnatural, spoiling the effect of his eye smiles. It wasn’t hard to spot a person running on fumes, and Jinyoung knew exactly what to look for. 

He wrinkled the bridge of his nose and pressed his lips into a hard line at his younger friend.

“Youngjae-hyung, you’re seriously heartless.” Yugyeom whined from behind Youngjae’s shoulder. “Why would you rat me out like that?”

“Because Youngjae knows how to survive as an idol,” Jinyoung said as a saccharine smile spread over his face. “That’s why he has actual fans, unlike _a certain_ little brat.”

“…Mercy.”

Jinyoung decreed that Yugyeom’s punishment for the day would be pancakes. He was even kind enough to let him buy the tasteless cafeteria ones instead of his favorite fluffy soufflé pancakes from the cute little coffee shop just off campus. It has nothing to do with how little time he had to ram and batter as much of The Great Gatsby as he could into the little ones' empty heads before his next class. 

“How do you even know if I’ve read this book?”Jinyoung said. He sighed, mourning his lost morning break. “I took this class two years ago, just about. You know Son is one of those involved Professors. He rotates his courses and book list out every semester.” 

“First of all you read everything. You read stuff in _Japanese_ and _English_ for _fun_ ,” Yugyeom grumbled. " _And_ you got mad at us for not getting your green light reference when you got all misty-eyed about Dream High. You’ve read it, hyung.”

“Well clearly you still don’t get it, or we wouldn't be here.” Jinyoung rolled his eyes. Beside him Yugyeom slumped over, narrowly avoiding his sticky plate. “Look, for Gatsy personally, the green light is explicity and stand in for Daisy, but in general…”

“Actually hyung, while the topic is up,” Youngjae cut him off, “Jinwoon-hyung caught up with me the other day. He’s been wondering how you’ve been…there’s this new drama role he’s been eyeing and there’s a supporting part…”

Jinyoung took a deep breath to calm himself. “Jinwoon-hyung is really kind to be worrying about other people’s careers, isn’t he? Tell him I appreciate the offer, but I really don’t think it’s the time for it. He has plenty of other talented juniors at JYPE.”

“You know, you’re one of those juniors,” Yugyeom said getting up off the table. “Wonpil-hyung told me they’re already talking about what dramas you'll do in five years. All the admins and coordi-noonas are already planning your future movies.”

Jinyoung fell silent. He looked hard down at his old battered translation of Gatsby. It was odd to see in in all Korean again after so long, the words blurring over in his eyes.

“I…I don’t know Yugyeom.” Jinyoung said. “I never really thought I’d be that hard core an actor.”

From as young as 8, music and colors moved him. They wormed their way into Jinyoung's head and limbs and made his hands flutter through the air. He threw himself into motion, into the way his routines felt in his bones, and dreamed of dancing under brilliant stage lights.

Nine years at JYPE had crushed those dreams.

Jinyoung came up for group after group, planned for so many young hopefuls, but something always happened, something…didn’t fit. After he began to take proper jobs in dramas in a desperate attempt to put a dent into his massive debt, it seemed like the company switched gears, cutting his dance practices and penning in more vocal and expression-shadowing lessons, shoving him away from the stage and towards the screen. When his contract came up for renewal for the second time, Jinyoung had stared at the notice for days before rescheduling his first conference in what would be a series of negotiations with the company.

“You never thought you’d be a lit-teacher either hyung,”Youngjae said.

That was fair. Literature was something of a plot twist in Jinyoung’s life, a happy accident. Books were a symptom of his growing discontent, not a goal.

Even between all his new lessons Jinyoung couldn't spend all his time working. TV and social media, with so many other successful idols always promoting this or that, left a bad taste in his mouth. Slowly he began to spend more break days lost between the pages of books, thinking of anything but his dwindling dreams of idol-hood.

Did he want to spend the rest of his life between the pages of Orwell and Souseki? Was it any better than dropping dance for acting?

Jinyoung couldn’t say.

“Well I’m not exactly being given a choice now am I?” Jinyoung chuckled, a sound that came out dry and harsh, “Since you two still don’t understand the point of Nick Carraway as a witness protagonist.”

Yugyeom slumped over with another dramatic wail. The atmosphere broke around him, and Jinyoung chuckled, breathing more easily.

He chose to ignore Youngjae pouting at him over the dark blue cover.


	2. Gravity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Destiny is starting to get so antsy with all these near misses.

Hard bass pounded down on him like a physical weight as Jaebeom pushed his way through the packed nightclub towards the raised lip at the back that housed the bar. At the very end of the counter sat his employer of the night.

"Jaebeom, my man," Jaebeom smiled and clapped the hand that came up to meet him with one of his own. The other boy's thick thumb ring scratched uncomfortably against his skin. "You made it."

"Been a while Namjoon," Jaebeom smiled, "or what is it, RM now?"

He gave Namjoon a hard stare up and down. 

Namjoon was newly blonde, a bright, nearly white color that glowed under the blacklights that flashed through the club. aside from the top mass that fell over one side of his head, the rest was cut so short it might as well have been shaved. It gave his otherwise gentle face a hard edge that didn't quite fit. On top of that Namjoon was layered in two tank tops and a oversized T-shirt and his neck was buried in gold chains. 

"This is...a look." Jaebeom couldn't quite hold back his wide smirk.

Namjoon gave him pained look. 

"Let's not talk about it...please. I just came from a shoot. Yoongi-hyung was still wearing his purple extensions when we got here."

"It's a far cry from the old soundcloud days, huh?" Jaebum nodded furtively, twisting his head towards the stage where a guitar duo was just starting to set up. The girls moved with smooth efficiency. Clearly it wasn't their first time around the block. Jaebeom laughed beneath his breath as he remembered his disastrous first time on an unforgiving Seoul stage. "Looks like your opening act's not half bad. Friends I don't know?"

"You would know them if you kept even nominally updated with the underground."Namjoon rolled his eyes at Jaebeom , but the set of his lips was relaxed and unaggressive. "That's Min and Somi. They're trainees gone rogue. They moved in a stomped out territory before anybody knew what to do with them. It was pretty impressive, earned them a ton of brownie points." 

"That's why they're so used to the crowd." Jaebeom nodded around at the churning dance floor. "This much is probably nothing. Half the people here aren't even really looking at them." 

"Nothing like your first time." Namjoon said, another chuckle loaded on his breath.

"At least when I self-destructed, I only screwed myself. I didn't bring an entire sound system down with me." Jaebeom replied smoothly. Namjoon's grin evaporated and he groaned.

And this was easy, poking back and forth with Namjoon while the lights flickered on and off. It was like Jaebeom had never left his first smoke infused breath of underground freedom. It was sorely missed. 

At his core Jaebeom was intensely proud that his old compatriots have fought their way into the industry. That they're in an honest to god idol group and having personal concerts. It had always seemed fun. In his quieter moments, Jaebeom wondered if he could have made it too if he'd really pulled for it. But the camera in his hand is a familiar, comforting weight. The periphery concerns of poor lighting and clear angles, grounded his mind. 

He'd made his choice.

There was no use weighing between dreams.

Motioning to the bartender, he ordered himself a gin and tonic, keeping his face carefully neutral. It wasn't usually his style, but it seemed appropriate for the heavy camera bag slung over his shoulders.

He was pulling his wallet when Namjoon waved his hands away and slapped down a handful of bills.

"I got it," the blonde grinned, "You're doing us a pretty big favor, least I could do is get the drinks." 

Jaebeom blinked at him and wrinkled his nose. "Favor? I'm being paid to go to an AgustD concert and adding to my porfolio at the same time...there's no losing here. I'm still surprised you need me. Didn't BigHit want to handle this? You're their biggest group."

"Biggest group...only working group," Namjoon shrugged. "Nah, Bts is Bts; this is different. AgustD needs to keep his indie cred, you know? He's got that mysterious underground vibe going on."

"Fair...I'll get it next time then." Jaebeom grinned at Namjoon's furrowed brows.

They were interrupted by a yelp.

"Joonie!" A fluffy white sleeve waved at them from the mass of people gathered on the dance floor. "Help!"

Namjoon sighed, pointing a thumb over his shoulder. "You mind?"

"Go." Jaebeom waved him off. Namjoon slid out of his seat with a sigh and waded into the crowd, his hair lighting up liek a beacon. A couple bangs and bumps later, he reappeared ushering two other boys, one in an oversized hoodie that drowned his frame, and Namjoon's group mate in all black save for a shock of bright orange hair. Both looked more disheveled than they probably had been at the begining of the night.

Hoodie boy slumped into Namjoon's old seat with and exaggerated sigh. 

"It's a disaster out there! How could you let us fend for ourselves like that?" He whined loudly. "I am floppy, Joonie, and Jiminie is small!"

Namjoon rolled his eyes and dragged over two more stools. 

"Jaebeom, you've met Jimin." The shorter boy waved shyly at him from Namjoon's other side. Hoodie boy - who only seemed to notice Jaebeom's presence now - peered up at Jaebeom from the bar. "This is our friend Hoseok. Seok-ah, this is Jaebeom, he'll be handling Yoongi-hyung's instagram for tonight."

A sleeve covered paw came up to shake Jaebeom's hand. Hoseok had an interesting face with almond eyes that turned down softly at the corners and a heart-shaped mouth that set off alarm bells in Jaebeom's head.

"Hey," he said, shaking the boy's hand, "have I seen you somewhere maybe?"

As soon as the words were out of his mouth he found Hoseok maybe 5 inches from his face, eyes glittering madly in the flickering half light. The other boy voice dropped to a low breathy whisper.

"JYP," he laughed and leaned back to cup his cheeks in sleeve material with the barest hint of fingers popping out of the ends, "You got me, Jaebeom-ssi. I'm your angel, J-hope!"

Before Jaebeom remembered to stop himself, he opened his big fat mouth again.

"Oh, with Junior in JJP."

Namjoon's and Jimin's eyes snapped to him.

"Jaebeom, you knew JJ Project?" Namjoon asked. "Was it from that one drama? Wow what are those odds huh?"

Jaebeom pressed his mouth into a line to hide the tension in his jaw as he debated his options. Namjoon was either going to think he was into teeny bopper music or trashy wish-fulfillment Highschool dramas. He could feel the respect draining out of his friend already.

Neither was fair. Jaebeom had been a Junior fan before both those things, since audition where he'd seen the bright, magnetic boy that asked Jaebeom to promise him through the fuzzy old TV screen to look after him on his journey. He'll only work harder from here. Dream High 2 wasn't even a good example of Junior's subtle but emotional acting.

But he wasn't about to say that to Namjoon and his idol friends.

"My roommate, this freshman kid," he said quickly, trying not to choke. "he-he's a pretty big Junior fan, yeah? Rewatches Dream High and stuff all the time."

Hoseok raised one perfectly plucked brow at him.

"And stuff huh?" He chuckled. "It was Dream high 2, by the way. We weren't in the first season. But I'm glad it's made its way around."

Jaebeom nodded and wisely kept his mouth shut. Instead, he set up his camera, and wandered around to find his angles up until deep bass began to pump from the speakers and the star of the night took the stage. Quietly he lined up his first shot of the man who made him realize that no hobbyist would make it big in this business.

Yoongi could deny it up and down, but Jaebeom was convinced he was born for performance. He had already been a performing regular when Jaebeom came, wet behind the ears from Ilsan, but Jaebeom really couldn't imagine a time when Yoongi didn't fill the stage with a presence so heavy it held its own gravity. When the music started and Yoongi launched into his first verse, that gravity condensed, magnified into a black hole that draw all the colors, all the energy of the club to him.

"Oh god, he's so dramatic." Hoseok whispered, but there was a huge heart-shaped grin on his face. 

'Dramatic' was one way to put it.

Despite his aloofness, hood pulled so low all Jaebeom could see was his hands and his mouth at the mic, there was an agressive magnetism to Yoongi that attracted the eye. Plenty of heads had turned for the girls, but Agust D was in a class of his own. The club stopped around him, every hand dropped their business and participated until the whole crowd was part of his performance. This was what they had come for, why they had stood for hours in line and paid exorbitant entrance fees.

If Jaebeom wanted to be like that, he would have had to throw everything else away, sink himself into music completely. Even then he might not be good enough. 

Jaebeom lowered his camera. His hands were shaking too much. He took a slow deep breath, readjusted his hold, and lined up another shot. 

-o-

Jinyoung groaned, startling from his sleep when the unwelcome weight of a second body plopped on top of him. He shuffled under the blanket, trying to roll it off of him so he could ignore it until it went away. Thin but surprisingly strong arms snaked around him, trapping his own limbs to his body. After a few more minutes of half-hearted struggling, Jinyoung sighed and cracked an eye open to glare at his former group partner.

“I thought I told Jackson to stop letting vermin into the apartment.” Hoseok only laughed in his face. 

“Someone woke up on the prickly side of the bed today.” The older boy rearranged himself until he was less of a deadweight on top of Jinyoung and settling into a proper cuddle. With some tugging, Jinyoung managed to free his hands use them as leverage to tip Hoseok over just enough to be comfortable. 

In the depths of his mind, he used to thank the stars that his other J was also a natural hugger. It was one of the few thing he missed about the dorms. During their brief run as a duo, Jinyoung had woken up to Hoseok tangled in his blanket more than once. Even now, his presence was warm and familiar. If it weren’t for Hoseok plastered to his side, he might have just thrown the towel and walked out when JJ Project went on hiatus.

But Hoseok moved on, literally and figuratively hauling everything forward when he was put into his new group, the one in a thousand second chance. 

“Seokie, why are you invading my room at stupid o’clock instead of staying with your edgy rapper boyfriend?” Jinyoung yawned halfway through his question.

“Aish, stop. He’s not my boyfriend.” 

“Yet.” Jinyoung said. Hoseok grumbled, digging an elbow into Jinyoung’s ribs. “Don’t give me that look, I see you like every other week and I already know enough about your precious Yoongi-hyung to buy him a personalized gift basket.”

“You’re just jealous I’m not always around to spoil you anymore,” Hoseok stuck his tongue out and Jinyoung had to tilt his head to dodge it. “Oh, and the concert was amazing, thanks for asking. Nice music, nice people. You know things that happen when you go out and have fun instead of holing inside like a porcupine.”

“I told you I had homework.” 

“You always have homework!” 

“And yet you keep asking.”

“Come on Nyoungie,” Hoseok sighed, his voice becoming quieter, almost serious, “Yoongi-Hyung is good at what he does. And he’s so nice too! Prickly at first, but he’s super cool. I just want you to meet him. Just the one time.” 

“Maybe after midterms.” Jinyoung rolled over until he was being spooned softly into the curl of Hoseok’s torso. It’s not that he dign't like Min Yoongi - he's not that harsh. he’s never even seen the guy in real life. It’s that Min Yoongi’s achievements far proceeded him. How would Jinyoung, talentless enough at the one thing he’s always wanted to do, face a genius who managed to climb the ladder not once, but twice and going strong on both counts. "If he can put up you, I'm sure he can wait that long."

“Okay,” Hoseok nodded against the back of his neck, “okay, as long as you go next time. We can take Youngjae and your little trainee baby too, it’ll be great.”

Jinyoung mirrored Hoseok's nod even as his eyes began to drift closed again.

They had about ten more minutes to themselves before they were collectively crushed under a flying tackle. 

“Jackson!” Jinyoung hissed, throwing his blanket up to smother his roommate’s bleached blonde head. “What the fuck.”

“You’re having a cuddle session without me! I can't beleive it! I knew he was taking way too long!” Against the laws of physics, Jackson and his frilly yellow apron somehow wormed their way into the middle of their pile to shake Jinyoung's shoulders dramatically. “I really thought we had something Jinyoung, and here I find you in bed with another man!” 

Beside him Hoseok burst into a loud gut laugh, rivaling Jackson in volume. 

“Don’t worry Jackson,” Jinyoung said. He grunted and kicked both of them off his bed, “I promise I’ll always hate you most.”

“Thank you!” Jackson coughed from the floor while Hoseok let out a dramatic gasp. “Now hurry out of bed. I made my famous avocado flaxseed breakfast scramble! I'll never forgive you guys for the rest of my life if you let it get cold.” 

And like that, Jackson was gone, frilly apron and all.

“He’s…he’s not serious right?” Hoseok said quietly from wherever he was on the floor.

Jinyoung huffed and tossed a pillow down on top of Hoseok. 

If he had to eat whatever organic antioxidant superfood mess Jackson cooked up this time, then so did Hoseok. 

The one benefit of occasionally eating with Jackson was that it actually did do wonders for Jinyoung's overall stamina. Five hours later and he was still reasonably alive as he hurried to meet up with his manager. 

Technically speaking Jinyoung went to JYPE whenever he needed to be there and his manager can deal with any irate professors that have a problem with it. But Park Joon had been on scene on both sides of the equation since Jinyoung was a drooling toddler bouncing in his walker. He evaded class times and professor appointments with razor precision and kept most of the really menial work to afternoons and weekends when Jinyoung only had the one Friday morning class.

“Hi hyung,” Jinyoung smiled tiredly as he dragged his bike over to the door of the university parking garage. Joon helped him fold it down and carry it into the elevator.

“Got your text,” the older man said, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Rough morning?”

“Can you tell?” Jinyoung huffed as he slumped against the wall. “He needs to remember that we don’t live together anymore. He can't just barge in on me in the middle of the night.”

“He’s still adjusting,” Joon chuckled softly, “it’s not easy, sharing your life with six other people, you’ve had a taste of that. Sometimes group members need something…special, something theirs away from the others.”

A sudden bitter feeling rose in the back of Jinyoung’s throat. 

“I don’t think this counts, hyung. I trained with them too. We even lived in the same dorms for a while.” To Jinyoung, his voice came out watery without any real substance behind it, “I see Youngjae more than I do Seokie nowadays.”

“Of course, Jinyoung-ah,” Joon pat him gently on the shoulder, ”but trust me, it’s not the same. You’re particular to Hoseok…special, his other J. You’re involved but at the same time not too involved.”

Jinyoung nodded and pressed his lips together.

Jinyoung was supposed to be all the way involved. When the idea was first pitched, Lucky7 was meant to have grown out of the previously failed JJ Project and Live5. The name of the group sprang from a hope that this time would be their lucky break. They even converted the old JJ SNS pages over. Jinyoung was there when they named it. Jinyoung was placed with the group right up until the end, hanging on long after trainee after trainee was dismissed, until he had a clear shot. 

But Lucky7 only had seven spaces. 

At the last second, the board decided they wanted a classically trained vocalist on the team. Jinyoung, the all-rounder, the stable but-not-special, was given the boot.

It was only 10 minutes to his apartment by car, not enough time for Jinyoung to turn the thoughts around in his head until he wanted to throw something. When they got there, Hoseok was bundled up in Jinyoung’s duvet, still out cold from his concert night. Joon had to drag his limp body from the sheets and half carry him down to the car still clutching a pillow, leaving Jinyoung to pick up his backpack and follow behind. They snuggled in the backseat out of habit, Jinyoung’s early morning catching up with him. Joon ended up having to drag both of them up the stairs to the dorm because Hoseok had glued himself to Jinyoung’s sweater and refused to let go.

When they got to the right floor, Jinyoung was knocked out of his sleep fog by a crash, series of metallic clanging sounds, and a high pitched screech not exactly in that order. Before they even reached the door, it slammed open and Wonpil teleported to his side. Jinyoung now had two sets of sharp nails digging into his arms as his old friend thrust both him and Hoseok forward like a proffered sacrifice.

He didn't want to know, honestly.

“Wonpil, you’re fine it’s just – oh, hi there Jinyoungie, Joon-Hyung.” Tall and dark Hyunwoo looked much softer with rumpled puppy brown bed hair, halfway through a yawn. He tried to smile at Jinyoung and Joon through it. It was a perfect goofy waste of his handsome face. “Been a while.” 

“Morning Hyunwoo-hyung. Or is it Shownu-hyung now?”Jinyoung said. He dipped his head in a shallow bow willing the warmth to leave his cheeks and ignoring the snort Hoseok muffled into his shoulder. 

“It’s whatever you’d like, dumb dumb.” Hyunwoo said. “You’re still part of the family, Jinyoungie, don’t talk like a stranger.” 

And okay, maybe Jinyoung  _ did _ have a _ little _ thing for Hyunwoo, but even on that off chance, it wasn’t fair to hold it against him. The world had a  _ little _ thing for broad, built, sweet-natured, straight-as-a-support-pillar Hyunwoo. Jinyoung couldn’t be blamed for essentially having eyes. 

“Hyung!” Wonpil hissed from Jinyoung’s other side, his grip tight enough that Jinyoung could feel the blood leaving his forearm. “Dote on Nyoungie later!  _ This is a crisis situation _ !”

“Crisis? Wonpil it’s just a spider…” As soon as the word was out of Hyunwoo’s mouth Hoseok shivered and cut off the circulation in Jinyoung’s remaining functional arm. “It’s gone now. It crawled away.”

“You mean, you let it  _ loose _ to  _ menace _ our home?” Hoseok squeaked. Jinyoung bit back a sigh. This was one thing he definitely didn’t miss about moving out of the dorms. “Nyoungie, I’m moving in with you.”

“Not if I get there first!” Wonpil whimpered.

Hyunwoo looked about as tired as Jinyoung felt. Instead of replying, Jinyoung struggled both the idiots hanging off of him forward step by step towards the foyer. Wonpil and Hoseok were older and bigger, but Jinyoung was stronger than he looked. They put up a decent fight. At his place at the door, Hyunwoo leaned back and laughed, a languid slow sound. 

“Pil! I killed your bug!” A sharp voice echoed from inside the apartment. 

Instantly Jinyoung felt the pressure on his arms give and all three of them stumbled forward. Hyunwoo deftly caught Jinyoung by the shoulders before the younger boy smacked into him while he let Hoseok and Wonpil spill over themselves into a heap in the foyer screaming about cruelty and preferential treatment.

“You told me to dote on Jinyoungie later,” Hyunwoo said with a grin. “It’s later. Be good hyung, he’s younger than you.”

“We're literally the same age,” Wonpil whined. Hoseok pat him on the shoulder making comforting noises. From the couch, Youngjae cuddled with the rest fo the members, Dowoon and Brian. The TV was on, turned to some historical drama they were trying to watch together, although from the way Brian's head had flopped on Dowoon’s shoulders, eyes glazed, he was maybe seconds away from complete unconsciousness. From there Jinyoung could just see into the kitchen and catch Sungjin walking out with a bowl of japchae.

“Pil, you left crumbs all over the counter again. This is why insects keep – Oh Joon-hyung…and Junior, hey!” Sungjin slid the bowl of noodles on the coffee table and came over to pat Jinyoung’s hair. “How’s our baby?”

“I’m not your baby anymore," Jinyoung said, even as he leaned into Sungjin's one-armed hug. "Youngjae and Dowoon are.” 

“Ssssh, you will always be our baby. You are my cleanest, best-behaved, most non-talkative baby.” Sungjin said firmly.

It’s weird how well Jinyoung still fits. Dowoon greeted him with a happy wave on each hand like he never left. Youngjae whom he’d never trained with and only saw at school still sat up properly to bow to him and Joon. In his place beside Dowoon, Brian just seem to absorb his presence like it was natural, barely nodding and bringing up two fingers to salute before sinking back into whatever partial consciousness he'd had. It really was too early for him. Only the Maknae got to wrestle Brian out of bed when he didn’t have to be. 

It’s a pretty illusion for Jinyoung to indulge in until Joon taps him on the shoulder and reminded him they need to leave or risk being late for his next filming. Jinyoung said good-bye with more well wishes than he can accept and invitations to a thousand and one events he would 100% forget about until Hoseok or Wonpil calls him to panic about outfit ideas and meet-up times. He’s still theirs, they insist, still part of this living creature called an idol group. 

If Jinyoung closed his eyes, he could almost believe it.


	3. The perfect tangle of knots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fate finally managing to tie all her loose ends together into some monstrous gordian knot

“Hyung!” For a boy so skinny it’s amazing how loud BamBam can be when he put his mind to it. Jaebeom’s not sure where the freshman finds the lung capacity. “Did you really get invited to an idols’ party?”

Jaebeom didn’t bother being surprised anymore. With a sigh, he marked the page and put his textbook down on the sofa next to him. He had gotten Namjoon’s text maybe thirty minutes ago. “Where did you hear that?”

  
“I heard it from Lisa, who heard it from Changkyun in the group chat, who hangs out with that rapper guy Jooheon remember? Anyways, he heard it from…”

  
“Bam, just get to the point.”

“Anyway, apparently they’re doing some kind of private inter-company thing for the fall, and AgustD himself said he might be inviting a certain Instagram friend of his, and you and I both know who’s the certain PrdsDef that basically runs that IG acc. Hyung, why didn’t you tell me you were invited to Seoul’s de facto social event of the season?”

“Because clearly, you knew about this long before I did.” Jaebeom groaned. BamBam laughed at him, but even then Jaebeom could already see the sparkle in his large mascara rimmed eyes.

“Jaebeom-hyuuuuuung,” he said sweetly, “…you know you’re my number one most beloved, most respected hyung riiiight?”

“You don't even listen to me when I ask you to go pick stuff up from the grocery store, you lying brat. I don’t know if I’m going, I’m not asking them if they’ll let me take a plus one.” Jaebeom groaned. “Besides,

I’m not…I’m not actually with the idol scene…”

“But hyung! This is a once in a lifetime chance for me!” Bambam was sticking out his bottom lip in a quivering pout. Jaebeom could feel his resolve starting to crumble. “Think of the people! The fashion! This is where I’m gonna be after graduation, hyung, I need an in! I’m not connected like my amazing and chic hyung, with all his cool celebrity friends. I’m just a poor little immigrant boy with no one to rely on to make it through high society…”

He was bent over nearly double now, hands grabbing Jaebeom’s hand and shaking until Jaebeom could feel it in his wrists.

“Yah! Fine, I’ll take you!” Jaebum grumbled and swatted his younger roommate with his book.

“Great! I love you hyung! I’ll be on my best behavior don’t you worry,” BamBam gushed as he violently threw himself around Jaebeom in an uncomfortable bony hug. “And…”

“And?”

“And can we also bring Mark-hyung along too?”

“I fucking knew he put you up to this.”

It was amazing how quickly a week passed by when you have something looming at the end of it. In a blink, Jaebeom found himself staring blankly at his open closet while BamBam dug through his formerly neat clothes with wild abandon.

“Hyung!” He cried, “Why do you have NOTHING?!”

“I have plenty,” Jaebeom grumbled. “Namjoon told us to dress normally.”  
BamBam rolled his eyes at him and went back to destroying his closet. “Hyung, they’re IDOLS. They could wear their ‘normal’ to meet the Queen of England, she wouldn’t care. You can’t be in your sweats and bucket hat next to Chanel and Balenciaga.”

“Watch me,” Jaebeom muttered under his breath.

Nonetheless, he let BamBam carry on lamenting that Jaebeom couldn’t fit into his own clothes or he would have contributed something. BamBam, of course, forgot that nobody ever fit into his clothes because he was a 5’9” chopstick posing as human.

  
After much rifling, he dug out a charcoal gray turtleneck that Jaebeom hadn’t worn in years which he paired with black ripped skinny jeans. After a while, he leaned back with a long hard look at his hyung. With a sigh, BamBam began to throw all the loose button-ups and jackets he could find at Jaebeom, never failing to throw a mini tantrum every time Jaebeom put one on. He finally decided on a light blue and white striped number big enough to swallow even Jaebeom’s broad shoulders.

“Softens your edges just a little and has that effortless artist vibe,” said BamBam. It was Jaebeom’s turn to roll his eyes. “It’ll have to do. Now accessories, and makeup.”

“Wait, what now?” Jaebeom blanched.

By the time Jaebeom had to physically drag BamBam away from his shoe collection to meet Mark in the car outside, he no longer felt quite like himself. In a daze, he fiddled with the unusually long pearl drop earing BamBam had clipped to his left ear in place of its usual gold hoop. The thin layers of BB cream felt oddly damp and greasy on his face like it just couldn’t quite soak in. His eyes blinked every few minutes still unused to the sticky gel liner or powdery feeling of shadow. It was only pure dumb luck that the younger boy hadn’t had the time to try and dye his hair, unlike Mark who had obligingly gone purple to match BamBam’s cotton candy pink.

The venue was pretty lowkey, a little basement karaoke café tucked into one of the quieter streets of Gangnam, a friendly place with cheap, cheesy neon lights that looked more like it was meant for Friday night college students and drunk businessmen than the carefully trained media darlings of South Korea.

Namjoon met them outside with hands shoved deep in his cargo pants pockets. His brows were tense when he looked up but once he saw the trio, his face relaxed into a grin.

“Well don’t you just fit right in?” he laughed, gesturing down at their clothes.

“Please don’t start,” Jaebeom groaned.

Namjoon waved him off. “I’m serious! You look great. You’ll find a lot of us ran over from practice and schedules. I wasn’t kidding, you could have come in your PJs nobody would have minded.”

Jaebeom raised an unconvinced eyebrow, but BamBam elbowed him in the ribs.

“Oh right,” he glared sideways at the younger boy, “this is my roommate, BamBam - Don’t worry about his real name we never bothered to learn it either – yah! Stop poking me – and this is Mark, my hyung from the art department. He majors in Computer Graphics and minors in Photography.”

The smile on Namjoon’s face was wide and awkward and Jaebeom realized his desperate attempt at being casual had fallen through.

“Nice to meet you, I’m…” Namjoon began to rattle off a practiced introduction.

He was interrupted by quick but deep waist bow from BamBam whose candy pink cloud of hair bobbed with the movement.

“Kim Namjoon, Also known as Rap Monster, RM, and leader of Bts amongst other things! It’s nice to meet you too Namjoon-ssi," Bambam babbled in a nonstop stream. Coming out of his bow, he stuck his hand out like a flagpole. "I’m BamBam. Jaebeom-hyung’s told me so much about you.”

Jaebeom was about to reach out and grab the younger boy by his collar but Namjoon burst out in giggles and shook BamBam’s hand vigorously. He dipped his head in a shallow bow to Mark before ushering them all inside.

It turned out the entire little Karaoke bar was the venue. All the booths were unlocked for their use and snacks and drink were set up haphazardly everywhere. Music boomed out of some of the booths chaotically. Songs blended with each other into a messy background track that changed every few minutes as different numbers ended and began. Louder, surprisingly, were the hundreds of chattering voices and booming laughter that pulsed together like white noise in a surprisingly friendly way. Namjoon hadn’t exaggerated. Sure there were idols dressed to the nines in clothes Jaebeom didn’t know the price tag of, but there were also idols who looked like they just threw on whatever they touched first and ran out the door.

They meandered down to the second level, stopping now and again to shake hands with and bow to hyungs and noonas until they came to a booth that seemed to have been taken over by a heated game of Paper Scissors Rock. On the far side, Hoseok caught his eye and waved before crouching back down next to Yoongi to rejoin the game with a weirdly serious set to his brows. Yoongi didn’t even look up. Off to the side sat a couple of boxes wrapped in a way that Jaebeom could only describe as gleefully horribly. Hanging off the end of the couch was a boy in literal pajama bottoms curled up and hugging a pillow.

“That’s Jae, he just got off the plane and collapsed,” Namjoon said with a shrug, “He wouldn’t be here except that his dongsaeng’s one of our birthday boys this month. He’ll wake up later.”

“Is he…can he sleep like that?” Jaebeom asked as the table erupted in cheers and hooting, three people jumped up fists pumping into the air. Miraculously, the sleeping boy snored on.

“Bro, he’s an idol,” Namjoon laughed. “He’ll sleep through the apocalypse if he doesn’t have a schedule coming.”

It took a few minutes for the people in the room to acknowledge and absorb their presence like an amorphous mass. Soon enough Jaebeom found himself dancing - really jumping - to the heavy beats of Fantastic Baby as he watched BamBam and another very tall boy with an overgrown bowl cut make dying elephant noises into their mics while BTS’s Jungkook tried his best to somehow salvage the burning train wreck. Out of breath, he plopped himself down next to Mark and Hoseok nodding their heads at a guy rapid firing words from his mouth.

Actually…

“Wait…Jackson Wang?” Jaebeom blinked as Jackson’s blurry face swam under the shifting colors. Maybe the beer was making him see things.

“Sun! Bae! Nim!” Jackson shrieked and threw an arm across his shoulder before Jaebeom could do anything. “Why didn’t you tell me you knew Bts?! I can’t believe you used to be this hardcore in the underground!”

“Yoongi whines about him all the time; Defsoul this, and Defsoul that, and when is Def gonna put out his next mixtape?” Hoseok laughed as he tossed back another beer. “Jaebeom right? You two know each other?”

Jaebeom shrugged, “He tags along with Mark to the dark room all the time.”

“And sunbae-nim showed me how to control the exposure on my photos! He really saved me! I was THIS close to failing.” Jaebeom rolled his eyes. He’d stepped in when Jackson had been taking over one of their very few stations with obviously ruined work. Since Jaebeom was, essentially developing for his own benefit, he hadn’t felt right asking the students with legitimate projects to leave. So it ended up that every time Jackson was doing a little worse than he could have, Jaebeom stepped in to help if Mark was too busy with other students.

“Ah,” Hoseok nodded sagely, “So you never talked about music or anything at all huh, Makes sense. Otherwise, for sure you would have heard of him.”

“Him?” Luckily for Jaebeom, Jackson also looked confused.

Hoseok gave them a smug lopsided smile. He pounded Jaebeom enthusiastically on the shoulder. “You see, Jaebeom-ssi, Jackson’s your man of the hour here. He’s a swell guy, fencing champion, Dean’s List student.” With every description, Jackson puffed up more and more. Jaebeom rolled his eyes gesturing for half-drunk Hoseok to keep going. “But for your purposes, you may know him as the roommate of our – that is to say your- most dearly beloved idol-actor heartthrob!”

For a second Jaebeom heard nothing. His head filtered out all the music all the voices to focus on a single name.

“What the fuck,” Jaebeom had nearly forgotten Mark was there, “Jackson, your mean bratty roommate is Junior?”

Jaebeom would love to say that he did the sensible thing and just wallowed in his own embarrassment, but once again he opened his big fat mouth before he could stop himself. “You called Junior a brat? Pann literally had an article that said he was one of the 10 friendliest talents to work within the industry.”

  
Jackson looked at him with wide eyes. Mark rolled his eyes. Hoseok threw his head back and let out a loud braying laugh.

Jaebeom could feel the judgment from where he sat.

“Oh, you’re definitely coming with me.” Jackson grabbed his hand and dragged him up. “Seokie can you get…wait, where’s Jae? Wasn’t he like just here?”

  
“We’ll find him when we find Jinyoungie,” Hoseok said. He shrugged and helped Jackson herd Jaebeom out of the room.

-o- 

When Jinyoung was a neophyte he used to stress himself to pieces bout these quiet word-of-mouth parties, who was or wasn’t attending, what he was wearing, people he wanted or needed to get along with especially as a freshly debuted talent.

He was quickly cured of all that nonsense.

It’s not that they weren’t party people. They’re idols. They were very much party people, but even they only had so much energy to spare. Few and far in between were managers who scheduled these unofficial events into the itinerary, most of them had rushed over last minute from filming, practice, or recording. Some had to leave before the party even really started. In these little get-togethers where the rule was no cameras, no social media, no compromises, even the wildest of their partiers were sedate enough to keep a relatively chill atmosphere.

Really Jinyoung was more surprised that Jackson was behaving himself sensibly. In fact, he was sensible enough that he had been, at some point, absorbed into the crowd entirely, leaving Jinyoung to pad over to the nearest snack table to eat for the first time since breakfast. Grabbing a plate, Jinyoung loaded it with sweet and spicy shrimp chips, garlicy dried squid, and seven different types of cookies. Fuck his diet. He lived with Jackson. He’s earned this. When he was reaching for some chicken and cheese kimbap to at least pretend to have a decent meal, a tall fluffy body draped itself across his shoulders.

“Hi,” it groaned.

“Hi hyung,” he laughed and went back to filling his plate. “I thought you were still filming in America.”

“Nah kid, we finished up this morning. They kicked me back to Korea.” With a slow chuckle, Jinyoung tried to maneuver his boneless friend and food to the nearest raised flat surface. Eventually, he managed to drag both over to a low ottoman where he let Jae drop in favor of his food.

“You’re eating well.” Jae croaked. Jinyoung moved his plate so his food couldn’t be stolen and stuffed another roll of kimbap into his mouth. “Hey now! Be a good dongsaeng. Feed your starving hyung.”

Jinyoung smiled and swallowed another handful of cheeseballs and licking the orange flavor power off his fingertips. “You’ll just inhale my food. I’m sure the hottest new international star can feed himself.”

“What? No, I’m just a no-name youtuber, what u mean?” Jinyoung’s sure it would be less effort for Jae to walk five feet to the snack table and make his own plate rather than perform the series of contortions he did in an effort to reach Jinyoung’s, but you could never tell with Jae. It wasn’t even enough for him; Jae’s stomach was an endless sinkhole. Jinyoung used to hate how he could perpetually inhale food and stay slim enough to thread himself through a needle. “JUNIOR! Why must you always crush my hopes and dreams! This is why you didn’t make Lucky7. You’re a terrible maknae.”

“And you didn’t because they were afraid you’d eat the rest of the members out of house and home. At least only your paycheck goes to your stomach now.” Jinyoung quipped without missing a beat. It didn’t sting as much coming from rude crass Jae, who held nothing sacred. Due in part to the older boys exhaustion and sheer dumb luck, Jinyoung managed to scarf down about half of his food while Jae lay across his lap fake crying.

Suddenly, the crying stopped. A weird feeling prickled up the back of Jinyoung’s neck. Leaving Jae alone, for now, he looked back to come face to face with the three blank faces of Jackson, Hoseok and…oh no.

The boy standing beside his dumb friends was gorgeous, all sharp features and ink-black hair. Black gel liner emphasized intense eyes, smoked out just a bit with a warmer brown shadow that deepened their corners into something softer, more mysterious, and at the same time so frustrating familiar. And those shoulders, dear lord, no style hack in the book could hide those broad powerful beauties. Even hidden by the long sleeves of his button up his arms could have crushed Jinyoung. It was best not to even start on those beautifully toned legs. He definitely looked older, maybe a late debutante, but you could never be sure in this industry. He could just as easily be someone’s hilariously mature-looking maknae.

Then Jinyoung realized he still had half his body trapped under Pajama Boy Wonder. He quickly shoved Jae off his lap, not minding that Jae had indeed stolen the rest of his plate.

“Oh…hello?” Jinyoung could feel his facial muscles seizing from the embarrassment, and he hoped to god that his four years of grudging acting experience had done him some good. The twin evil glimmers in Hoseok’s and Jackson’s eyes, however, did not bode well.

  
“Aw, you looked like you were having so much fun.” Hoseok cackled, flouncing over to wrap Jinyoung in one of his koala hugs. Jinyoung would roll his eyes except he didn’t need Mr. Broad-Shoulders to know he had a petty bitch side right off the bat. “I’m hurt you didn’t go find me first.”

“You found me eventually, Seokie,” Jinyoung said sweetly, “and Jackson. Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

He could take Hoseok’s disgusting drunk snorting into his neck. No big deal. It didn’t matter that Jackson was leaning against the gorgeous new boy in a far too familiar way, even though the new boy wasn’t even his type and he’d been moaning about his TA puppy crush from the art department literally since Jinyoung had known him.

“These are Namjoon’s and Yoongi’s friends,” Friends? Multiple? Oh, there was a skinny boy lagging behind them, almost completely obscured in the dim light by his black clothes while his saturated purple hair almost blended into the blinking fairy lights. Jinyoung only really saw him when Jackson dragged him out in front. “And you wouldn’t believe it, but they actually go to our school! This is the incredible Mark-hyung I told you about who’s the saving angel of my photography grades!”

Huh, so this was the much-admired Mark. Honestly? Jinyoung could see it. On a closer look, he could make out the tapered pixie features and impossibly cute little mouth. Mark would have made a pretty idol. In fact, Jinyoung should bring the idea up as often as possible in Jackson’s immediate vicinity.

Gorgeous rolled his eyes and made a grumpy noise at the back of his throat. It was almost a growl, a rough sound that made Jinyoung want to purr in reply. Jackson needed to hurry the fuck up already.

“…and this is Jaebeom-sunbaenim, also from Photography, and a former Soundcloud songbird.”

Jaebeom was such a _nice_ , strong name. It suited the casual but aloof artist thing he had going on. Jinyoung could already imagine his silhouette prowling the streets of Seoul like a wildcat, snapping up whatever he felt like to muse over in the evenings, spread out languidly on a low couch or maybe even in bed. Maybe he’s got a messy little notebook full of little lyric lines and snippets of music he’s scribbled down for the odd rainy day.

“It’s nice to meet you both, Mark-ssi, _Jaebeom-ssi_.” Jinyoung turned his head just so, strategic finger propped on his chin to draw attention to the plush lips he considered the selling point of his face. He spoke with a calculated voice, dripping with ambrosia and nectar. It was something he was quite proud of, a light coquettish tone that stayed soft and playful even despite his deeper pitch. Jinyoung spent many hours fine-tuning the sound, letting just the tiniest bit of his dialect accent embellish the pretty words he restricted himself to. To this date it was Jinyoung’s Magnum Opus, a weapon reserved only for Junior’s most fetching moments on camera. “I’m the new generation JYP, it’s Junior. Oh, but please, call me Jinyoung. After all, we’re all friends here.”

Both Mark’s and Jaebeom’s mouth had fallen partway open, their eyes wide.

Jinyoung held back a sigh of relief. It’s good to know he’s still got it, cold start or no. _If only cute window boy could see him like this, haha._

-o-

Jaebeom’s blood froze in his veins as the boy on the bike looked up at him with those big soft eyes. Because it’s not possible. It. Can’t. Be.

  
It was something beyond the way that Junior’s hair wasn’t up in the usual messy spikes, or that he’d forgone his usual cherry colored makeup and quirky bright wardrobe for warmer sweeter blush tones and a comfortable fleece hoodie. Jaebeom had seen too many different permutations of Park Jinyoung to be duped by something that shallow. Junior has always been beautiful. Jaebeom’s beyond any shame in admitting that was what drew him to the young starlet in the first place. But that beauty had always been an intense one bright eyes and mischievous grin, a hypnotic heat lamp that drew Jaebeom in to burn.

This Junior, half lying over an ottoman laughing beneath another boy with his cheeks stuffed like a squirrel, was softer than Jaebeom had ever seen him.

Well, not _ever_.

  
Because he remembered that tender mouth and those brilliant eyes. He’d seen it clearly in his window despite the morning fog.

Then his expression shifted.

Jaebeom himself isn’t sure what happened. Junior's features didn't appear to move. But the glint in his eye was different, and, somehow, that changed everything. It was as if the moment Hoseok touched him, drew him into their mutual company, the softness disappeared. When his gaze landed on Jaebeom, it was the amused sultry gaze of a cat who just found a new chew toy.

This Junior, he knew. A boy full of winks and secret smiles and sweet and spoiled childhood-crush charm, a boy whose pixie-like exterior belied a serious worth ethic and dancing so elegant he seemed boneless. The heat too was familiar, that started at the pit of his stomach and rose to gather in a lump at this throat. Jaebeom couldn’t hear a thing Jackson was saying, every nerve focused on bearing up under Junior’s feline appraisal.

Junior turned his head just slightly to look at Mark, lips parted in a breathy giggle, and Jaebeom was finally allowed a moment of reprieve. he bit back a whimper, letting out a sound very much like the last sputters of a dying animal.

  
“It’s nice to meet you, Mark-sunbaenim,” Junior’s voice, smooth and heart-rending, coaxed his attention back to the conversation, “ _Jaebeom-sunbaenim_.”

And it wasn’t fair the way Junior's plush lips formed around his name, mouth opened wider than necessary for the rounded “eo” sound and smacking softly on the “m”, rolling the syllable around his mouth as if he was tasting it. The “sunbaenim” hit hard in contrast, made Jaebeom think of uniform ties and smart blazers, and it just wasn’t fair.

  
After that, the should-have-been standard procedure intro that Jaebeom had seen on camera hundreds if not thousands of times short-circuited his head.

  
“No, I...I mean, the pleasure is all mine,” Jaebeom said, laughing weakly, “I’m...I really liked your expression acting in Legend of the Blue Sea.”

  
For a split second, the softness was back in his eyes as they widened slightly.

“Sunbaenim, you saw Blue Sea? I didn’t expect that. Ah, but what should I do? You're just being kind. I was barely there.” Jinyoung chuckled. His voice was steady but his softness evaporated until Jaebeom couldn’t read his expression at all. “It was an interesting drama though, both to see and to work on. I suppose Lee Min Ho-sunbaenim calls out to all sort of fans. His lead actress was also amazing...” Jinyoung said, meandering politely into an example of how his noona had taken care of him backstage, one Jaebeom had already seen already from watching the series’ behind scene production videos.

Jaebeom knew an out when he saw it, an invitation to leave the subject with his pride intact. After all, why else would a young man Jaebeom’s age bother to watch a sappy period romance written for stay-at-home moms?

But still…

He’d never expected to meet Junior, never planned to go to a single fan meet or event. Buying the DVDs and photobooks, hunting the country over for photo cards and specific editions of magazines, that was easy enough online. If he had to pick up a few more work hours or stretch his student loans a little...well that was just a matter of budgeting really, asking himself where and what he could spare for a couple weeks. But it all felt private, even though Mark and BamBam jabbed at him about it every given opportunity, the way he appreciated that brilliance was his own, for himself in those quiet spaces in his head.

Even so, to saying _nothing..._

“I did...watch as it aired, I mean,” he said, “so I saw the backstage segments.”

Jaebeom took a deep breath.

“But I meant it honestly. I did notice your expression acting,” his voice was on the weak side when it came out, shakier than Jaebeom would have liked, “Especially during the ride to the harbor...and I knew you from other things too, like from Eun-dong. Honestly, I’d call myself a fan.”

Junior...Jinyoung’s softness doesn’t quite return, but there’s a new light in his eyes. His body turns from his angle on the ottoman to face Jaebeom in full. Slowly, Jinyoung blinked up at Jaebeom, his dark eyes reflecting all the colors of the flickering fairy lights beneath long elegant lashes. Beneath them, his smiled changed again as he stood up bringing him within arm’s length so that Jaebeom could see his bottom lip jutted out and highlighted by the sheen of his pearlescent gloss. Delicate fingertips skimmed the sensitive inside of his wrist as Jinyoung’s slender hand wrapped around his.

“Aw, thank you sunbaenim," Jinyoung said, " I guess we’ll just have to adopt you as a proper Joyous now. I won’t take no for an answer, no matter what Seokie says.” Their hands bobbed up and down but all Jaebeom could think about was how comfortably they fit together as if Jinyoung’s hand was made to tangle with his. The purr was back in the idol’s voice and Jaebeom shivered. “Don’t worry, I’m told I take good care of my fans.”

And Jaebeom, who had seen every post on an Instagram that was thrifty but for the occasional teasing pout or feline resting pose that couldn’t possibly be natural, let out a small nervous puff of breath.

“I’m sure you do, Jinyoung-ssi.” He said.

Jinyoung laughed and dragged Jaebeom along behind him as they melted into the party proper.

He did see Mark smirking in the corner of his eye, actually.

Fuck Mark.

Jaebeom could deal with him tomorrow.

Time blurred when he followed Jinyoung. The young idol got drunk surprisingly easily. It only took a couple of beers, maybe not even that until he was draped all over Jaebeom giggling at everything he said like it was the funniest thought that had ever occurred to him. A becoming flush had taken permanent residence on the bridge of his nose and the apples of his cheeks. He bellowed along to any song that happened to be playing as they moved through the rooms on both floors meeting an indistinct swath of people Jaebeom only vaguely recognized.

At some point he found himself back among the members of Bts again, trying to pay some nominal attention as Yoongi half coherently reminisced about their grand old indie days to anyone who’d listen but mostly to an attentive Hoseok.

It was hard to focus when a very warm, very pliant Park Jinyoung had somehow snuggled himself beneath Jaebeom’s arm and was fluttering his pretty lashes up at his poor speechless fan. Jaebeom wasn’t even sure how Jinyoung managed it, all the profiles online said they were the same height. Nevertheless, plastered against Jaebeom’s side, Jinyoung felt small and precious, something Jaebeom refrained from cradling into himself only for fear of breaking him by accident.

The hours passed in stuttered heartbeats and long breathy sighs.

When Jaebeom came to again he was on the floor, one cheek smushed up against Jinyoung’s knee so hard the seams had imprinted themselves onto his face. The boy in question was unconscious, head tipped back on the back of the low sofa. For a sleeping person, he sat oddly straight, enough that Jaebeom fit comfortably in the divot between his legs. One of his hands was still threaded through Jaebeom’s hair.

The karaoke machine buzzed quietly in the corner, long relieved of its duty.

Three other people, Yoongi and - surprisingly- Jimin as well as one of the guys Jaebeom remembered was from Lucky7, were either stretching or trying to shake their other members awake with varying amounts of success. Yoongi noticed him first.

“Hey Def, rise and shine,” the rapper laughed, voice still sleep raspy even as he dragged a limp Namjoon to his feet, “Nice to see you’re up.”

Jaebeom shook his head to clear out the sleepy fog so he could process words.

“Someone said the owners will probably be nice til morning, but I don’t know ‘em, so I’m not gonna test it. Brian says he’s got his boys and Jae.” Yoongi nodded towards the other boy shaking Hoseok awake. “Can you take care off of yours?”

  
“Yeah,” Jaebeom said. Regretfully, he picked himself out of his warm post at Jinyoung’s feet, letting the warm delicate fingers fall out of his hair. He nabbed the nearest half-full water bottle on the table, not caring who it might have belonged to, and emptied it. ”Yeah, Mark-hyung drove here, but I’m licensed. We’ll be alright.”

Yoongi nodded. “Alright, I guess that’s that.”

Unlike the idols, Jaebeom’s troublesome friends didn’t wake up at all. Mark was more sleepwalking than anything, his body moved but his eyes were closed and he was completely unresponsive. It was a stroke of pure luck that he was following along without a fight. As for BamBam, it was honestly easier to just throw his toothpick body over Jaebeom’s shoulders than to actually wake him up. Jaebeom wasn’t sure how he navigated them all upstairs and into the cramped parking lot, but it happened. That was good enough for him.

Cars arrived one by one, managers and sober friends picking up half awake teens and twenty-somes who were no longer idols but the same weary partied-out kids you could find anywhere else in the world.

How nice it’d be to have a ride home.

Just as he had shoved BamBam in the back seat beside Mark, the other guy - what’s his name? something foreign - ran up to him with furrowed brows.

“Hey,” he said almost breathless, “sorry to bother you but, you were hanging out with Nyoungie all night, right? Are you like a friend of his or something?”

“You mean Park Jinyoung?” Jaebeom blinked. He shook his head to clear it. The Lucky7 member nodded. “I’m...his sunbae from school.”

“Okay, okay,” the idol said offering him a thin hand, “I’m Brian by the way. I’m his hyung from the company.”

Jaebeom took it and gave the barest of shakes. "Im Jaebeom."

At a garbled English shout, Brian looked over his shoulders, frown deepening. In the distance, he could see a swaying Jinyoung with his arms tightly crossed speaking heated with the boy in pajama bottoms from earlier.

“Look, I hate to ask this of you. It’s totally our fault, but do you maybe have room in your car? Jinyoung’s being stubborn about taking a cab and...well with who he is, I don’t wanna put him on a bus or anything even with his roommate.”

_A bus?_

“Wasn’t his manager going to pick him up?” Jaebeom asked. “Why the change of plans?”

  
“Because Hoseok can’t be trusted with anything,” Brian grumbled, “Jinyoung was supposed to go home with us for the night, that’s why our hyung borrowed the van, but since he brought his roommate, that's out. Joon-hyung can’t reach us for another couple hours - he’s not even in Seoul right now. More than that our maknae Youngjae invited his and Jinyoung’s trainee dongsaeng, who asked if he could bring his friend, so Youngjae asked Hoseok about it. Hoseok told them all they could bring whoever and then didn’t tell _me_ anything, and Jae wasn’t supposed to even be back tonight, and we didn't think...just...never trust Hoseok.”

Brian let out a long slow breath.

Honestly, Jaebeom felt sorry for the guy, his eyes were slightly red, probably still tipsy, and his dark circles were stark on the pallor of his skin. Maybe in a couple hours with some food down, he’ll be human again, but for now, he looked like he just crawled from a shallow grave.

  
“So I’m wondering if maybe you guys also lived near the school...normally we’d just make 2 trips. It’s not impossible, so you don't have to feel obligated,” Brian explained running a hand through his choppy bangs, “But we need to take care of the all the kids, and I just...Nyoungie’s one of our younger ones I really don’t want him out this late…”

  
“I got it,” Jaebeom said awkwardly putting a hand on Brian’s shoulder to stop him. “Don't worry about it. There’s room, it won’t even be that much of a squeeze. Our Bam's tiny.” Brian nodded but his brows were still furrowed, his mouth, tense. “Look, you’re right, Brian-ssi. It makes sense. We all live pretty near the school, no one would be going out of their way, and no strangers on buses. It's the most logical solution.”

After a few seconds, Brian nodded to himself and punched his number into Jaebeom’s cell with strict instructions to call if anything happened. He ran back to the Lucky7 huddle by their large black van, after another round of back and forth, the tallest member picked Jinyoung up like he weighed nothing.

Jinyoung’s body looked so small in those arms - crumpled - as he struggled weakly against the grip. Jaebeom could feel the tendons in his jaw tighten as he watched them come closer.

The tall one introduced himself as Hyunwoo.

“I’m sorry, sunbaenim.” Jinyoung sighed once he was put down. His eyes were only half open, the orange streetlights dancing across his lashes in flickers of amber light. He rubbed his eyes with a fluffy sleeve, cute as a button. ”Hyung insisted. You don't have to. I can still find...”

“Absolutely not, Jinyoung-ssi,” Jaebeom smiled weakly as he herded Jinyoung on the passenger side “Come on, it’s no bother...we're all friends here, right?”

In comparison, Jackson climbed into the backseat with very little fight, promptly falling dead asleep over Mark’s lap.

Jaebeom didn’t remember much of the drive back. He kept his mouth shut and eyes firmly glued to the road and wheel in front of him rather than on the ethereal boy silhouetted against the shifting glow of Seoul's ever-active nightlife. Only when they were approaching the district did he think to ask for Jinyoung’s address.

But Jinyoung’s lashes had fluttered shut somewhere between here and there. With no choice left to him, Jaebeom pulled into his and BamBam’s apartment complex.

It was easy enough to get them up the stairs. Mark and Jackson walked like robots once pointed in the right direction. As before, the modus operandi with BamBam was to simply drag his unconscious body up the stairs and toss him into his room.

Jinyoung was snoring softly against the window by the time Jaebeom got back to him, long bangs falling into his eyes. Gently, Jaebeom caught them with gentle fingertips and tucked them behind his ear.  
He had curled up into a ball beneath his hoodie, wrapping it around himself like a blanket. His face, was relaxed and tension free, in the yellow glow of the street lights, Jaebeom could make out his more subtle features, the gentle curve of his nose, the sharpness of his brows, the mousy cheek pouches that official pictures always photoshopped away.

  
Jinyoung was heftier than BamBam. He filled out Jaebeom’s arms just enough that Jaebeom felt the intimate weight of another person pressed into him. It wasn’t too much, and in his drunk haze Jaebeom made up whatever strength he lacked is bullish confidence.

  
He couldn’t bear to wake Jinyoung up now. For the first time that night, the young idol felt comfortingly real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol this chapter was originally going to be shorter since I've been alternating the JB segments with the Jinyoung one, but it made less sense to separate the later JB segment since ti was mostly the same scene. So this one is going to be JB - JY - JB, so, unfortunately, the next chapter will be much shorter and feature only JY
> 
> have fun


	4. A New Leaf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What the FUCK does he mean no RICE?!

Jinyoung's head was killing him. He knew he should have drunken more water. He always told himself he would drink more water.

  
Another body was pressed against his, the folds of his striped shirt obscuring Jinyoung's vision, probably Hoseok or Jackson who are probably going to be just as cranky and achy as Jinyoung once he got around to waking him. He hoped it was Jackson. God save Hoseok if the other boy had smeared makeup into Jinyoung's sheets.

  
Jinyoung snuggled deeper and buried his nose in the soft green duvet, breathing in the warm scent of summer straw.

  
_...wait a fucking minute._

  
Jinyoung's eyes flew open, headache be damned. He didn't recognize the blue striped shirt either; Neither Hoseok nor Jackson would have something that objectively tame in their wardrobes. And - Jinyoung took a slow breath - neither of them had any business being soaked in the crisp warm scent of sun-dried straw like they'd been rolling in the stuff all summer. Plus, he was supposed to be at the dorms with Brian and the rest. Everyone there had the standard issue white sheets that never quite lost the faint smell of bleach, too broke at this point in their careers to care much about replacements.

Shaking, Jinyoung lifted himself slowly and inched his gaze up to the stranger whose arms he'd fallen asleep in.

  
Jaebeom was much less intense in the light of day, with one cheek squished into a pillow and snoring softly. He wasn't even fully on the bed, a good third of his body hanging off of it awkwardly like he'd tripped over something and decided not to get up. It was kind of cute.

  
Fuzzy memories of the stiff black hair running through his fingers piqued Jinyoung's curiosity.

  
Slowly checking that Jaebeom's breathing was regular and his snores were coming out evenly, Jinyoung carefully ran his fingers through the older boy's inky locks. In the front, it was all gunked up with gel and spray, beautiful to look at, but a hot mess to touch, but as Jinyoung brushed past the gel into the messier fluffier hair at the back of his head, his hair was much softer. It was quite thin, artificially fine at the tips like it'd been worn down with bleach again and again before being dyed back to black. When Jinyoung looked more closely he could see faint tints of blue mixed in where the cheap dye had faded slightly. 

So Im Jaebeom was one of _those_ boys.

  
A little soundless laugh bubbled up in his chest and shifted him ever so slightly. Nevertheless, the warm hand at his waist curled inside his shirt and pulled him closer, and Jaebeom's nose pressed into his cheek. Feeling substantially less sick, Jinyoung tangled their legs together and carefully inched them both across the mattress, until Jaebeom was no longer in danger of tipping himself off of it. With one last sigh, he closed his eyes and tucked himself back into the warmth of the handsome boy wrapped around him. 

It was his day off and his head was still pounding. No sense in getting up too early.

When he next woke up, it was to the lazy white noise of morning sounds coming from behind the door. Jinyoung touched his face and winced at the tacky feeling of old residual foundation on his skin. With a groan, he pulled himself off the mattress.

The room around him was chaotically neat, full to the bursting and every tiny little space was crammed with stuff. Pictures covered the walls, pinned up in an artistically nonlinear pattern. On a small desk shoved into a corner beneath the single window, platoons of little cardboard cartons and folders lined up in straight rows. In another corner, there was a giant old audio mixer with a thin laptop and a professional looking microphone perched on top. Squeezed between the bed and a dresser, a few thin matching floor cushions were stacked vertically to make use of the space. On the dresser was a hat tree heavy with beanies and caps, and one old ratty looking bucket hat. The rug on the floor was a patchwork of yarns, hand-made, well-loved, and fluffy, even where it's rich colors had worn away. Despite the clutter, there wasn't a single stray sock or piece of old clothing lying around anywhere.

Jaebeom would hate Jinyoung's room. 

Getting to his feet - and making some small effort to fold the duvet and tug the sheets back into some semblance of order because, gods, all the cleanliness was freaking him out a bit - Jinyoung's eye caught on a few of the photos hanging Jaebeom's desk protected by thin plastic sleeves the size of playing cards. Coming closer, he drew the curtains closed to kill the plastic shine.

Jinyoung lost his breath.

Grinning up at him was his own younger face, hair obnoxiously spiked and golden at the tips, torn T-shirt betraying his thin shoulders to the world. There was another one with a studded white leather jacket that didn't suit him at all. On Auto Pilot, the back of Jinyoung's mind began complaining at the art director who'd chosen to put that on a photo card.

  
But they were all there, every card from every version, from the ill-received Bounce album to the one only available in a magazine in Jinyoung's hometown in Jinhae, something a Seoulite would have had to specifically order. There was some actor paraphernalia too, of course, little mentions of him in the shadows of bigger better actors, carefully cut from articles. But seeing his old photocards, bright with rookie confidence, tugged sharply at his heart.

  
Logistically, Jinyoung knew he must have had fans. Even unsuccessful as they were, JJ Project had a good handful of legitimate supporters, a few thousand who bought their album and went to their shows. It was hard to tell who was more popular between them. The duo simply hadn't been around long enough to the fandom to stratify. But on pure statistics, at least some of them had to have been Junior fans. Even beyond that, he had followers on social media, always managed at least a couple of nice comments when sitting with senior actors on radio shows.

  
But that was hard to imagine; hard to see the numbers and icons as fans when the hammer came down and JJ Project was put on hiatus for good. It was hard to think that maybe people weren't tossing their mini posters and sticker sheets in with the recycle bin take out ads. Hoseok used to say that they'll become collector's items someday, premium merch the kind people paid millions of won for, and maybe Hoseok's will in 10 years when Lucky7 is a top-tier senior group picking up All-Kills like groceries. It didn't mean much to Jinyoung.

  
Jaebeom was real. There was a real person, who he didn't already know, that hung his pictures on their wall. He could touch the clear plastic, take them from their sleeves if he wanted to.

  
Behind him, the door clicked open.

  
"Jinyoung-ssi, are you awake?"

  
Jinyoung whirled around, blinking rapidly to hide the wetness in the corners of his eyes. 

Im Jaebeom was gaping at him, jaw dropped. Jinyoung barely recognized him. His make-up from last night was gone, leaving him looking much younger. Unlined, his eyes nearly disappeared into the boyishly long bangs that flopped into them unhindered by last night's gel. His skin had a red cast, from his shower or being caught red-handed, Jinyoung didn't know. In a T-shirt large enough to swamp his broad frame and frumpy plaid pajama bottoms, he looked so boyfriend sweet that it was hard to reconcile with his sharp image from the night before. 

Jinyoung may have melted a little inside.

And this was his fan, his. Not just as an actor, not just as a periphery to someone else, but Junior's, the idol's, real-life fan. 

"Sunbaenim, good morning-"

"I can explain..." Jinyoung could practically see Jaebeom jitter under his thin T-shirt. "Well, I guess I can't really. It is what it is."

"I guess you didn't need me to adopt you in the first place, did you sunbaenim?" Jinyoung smiled. Maybe should have put his idol face back on but he was tired and soft, and Jaebeom looked tired and soft. Maybe he could be forgiven for easing up just this once. "I'm sorry for prying."

"It's alright." Jaebeom shook his head, returning Jinyoung's smile with one of his own. "They're your pictures, Jinyoung-ssi. I mean...in a way you have more right to them than I do. And...you don't have to call me by -nim or anything thing...I'm barely a year above."

_Oh?_

A bubbling giddiness crinkled the corners of Jinyoung's eyes as a gem of an idea popped into his head. "Really? Can I call you hyung instead?" 

The yes on Jaebeom's lips was quiet, taken in with a breath. 

"Hyung." Jinyoung tested the word around his tongue. It feels surprisingly natural on Jaebeom, something that tied together both his sharp, manly image from last night and the rumpled soft one he currently wore. _Hyung_. Jinyoung kind of liked it. "Hyung really wouldn't mind if I took them out?"

Jaebeom jerked up, eyes finally visible wide and round beneath his hair. "I guess not...please, feel free."

Under Jaebeom's eagle eyes, Jinyoung carefully plucked open the plastic sleeve of his favorite card, the Jinhae one with the red and black sweater he still had lying around somewhere though it probably no longer hung off his thin shoulders like in the picture. Jinyoung handled the card with a delicate touch, well versed in how to avoid oil damage on merchandise. Of all his photocards this one was probably the most valuable, only around five hundred printed and tucked in a promotional article for the airing of Dream High 2.

"May I borrow a pen?" 

Jaebeom's hand was shaking ever so slightly as he handed Jinyounga cup of pens all neatly arranged by slots. Jinyoung's grin sharpened when he spied a pretty brush-tip marker that looked untouched sitting in its own little space. 

"Thank you." He fished out the brush pen and tested the rich dark ink on his palm. In precise, careful strokes, Jinyoung signed his name, his real name on the cheap cardstock back of the photo card in neat flowing script devoid of the fancy loops and western letters that curled around Junior's typical signature. Capping the pen, he handed both back to a silent Jaebeom. "For the kind-hearted hyung who took such good care of me."

Jinyoung dipped his head in gratitude, but also in selfishness. Because he saw the way Jaebeom handled it with his fingertips, gingerly avoiding both the drying ink and the surface of the photocard. He saw the way Jaebeom gently returned it to its little plastic sleeve where it was protected from sun and dust, where it was treasured. 

Maybe that was the difference. Maybe, by making Jaebeom's rare item into something truly one of a kind, Jinyoung has also created premium merchandise that will be worth millions of won someday, because maybe that was what it would take to buy something so carefully loved.

And maybe Jinyoung's been selling his own love a little too short. 

"You really do take good care of your fans, Jinyoung-ssi," Jaebeom said as he turned even redder beneath his damp strands of dark hair. "Thank you."

Jinyoung smile, trading an old weight for a new one that sat more comfortably on his shoulders. 

"Oh no, hyung," he said, "I can't be the only one dropping formalities. Aren't we friends already?

"Jinyoung-ah, then." Jaebeom laughed a little, no more than a gentle warble, out of place in his deep voice. It was adorable.

Then he told Jinyoung there was ham and egg fried rice and convenience store tteoboki ferreted away in the fridge, carefully guarded for now, but Jinyoung had better get to it quickly before Mark made the decision for him. With a laugh, Jinyoung wrapped himself around Jaebeom's arm, and let himself be tugged into the kitchen without any further complaints.

When Jinyoung got home he had his game face on, a quiet tension hanging onto his shoulders that just barely kept him from running ahead of his own body. Even Jackson looked at him with raised brows and eyes searching.

"Dude...are you okay?"

Jinyoung grunted wordlessly at him, ideas already buzzing in the idol's head. _Oh right, Jackson should know._

"I'm gonna be busy for the next bit. Anything you need me to do before then?" Jinyoung leveled a calculating gaze at his roommate. 

"Not with _that_ face on you," Jackson's expression twisted into a mocking mask of disgust, "I'm too young to die. What is this? Are you hardcore streaming old chick flicks again? Should I invest in a life vest for when you inevitably flood me out with tears?"

But Jinyoung's door had already clicked shut, leaving Jackson alone in the living room.

If he were honest, Jinyoung's room wasn't much bigger than Jaebeom's, maybe a few extra square feet added to a corner somewhere. Even without having a mini recording studio tucked away, Jinyoung simply had far less stuff to contend with. 

It's just...it was everywhere.

With a sigh, Jinyoung bent down and picked up the nearest pile of clothes, mostly socks and pants that he'd been too tired to aim for the laundry basket when he got home from work. Next, he picked up all the random books lying around, strewn over every horizontal surface, bookmarked the ones he hadn't finished and stacked them by the door to take out to their proper home on the bookshelf he shared with Jackson. Once the floor was mostly clear, he began to attack the real inventory.

A trip to the convenience store on the corner net him three good-sized boxes. Fortunately, moving from the dorms to an apartment meant most of his important non-essentials had already been packed off home, so most of the stuff he was going to send to join them didn't need any particular care.

  
It took about 4 hours to sort out what needed to go. Make-up was a big one: tints and blushes that looked fine swatched on his hand, but looked just that little bit off on the face, foundations and bb creams that used to match but now looked like chalk on his skin, sun creams and lotion samples he had a bad habit of picking up at corner stores even though the JYP stylists regularly shoved liters of the stuff at him. The unopened went into the box. The half used and near empty into the trash.

  
Clothes had to be split into two categories, clothes of his that he rarely wore and didn't fit anymore, and clothes from old photoshoots and filmings that were now several seasons out of date and should be retired. This pile took the longest, and Jinyoung's hoarding tendencies roared to the front of his mind as he forced himself to stare down every single item with a sharp eye and judged it on a need-to-have basis. He worked through quite efficiently plowing through most of its bulk, only faltering when his fingers ran across the weave of the red and black photocard sweater. Jinyoung wasn't going to give himself grief for that one. The material was thinner than he remembered and it hugged him a little too well, but it still fit comfortably and was ultimately inoffensive fashion-wise. One weakness out of nearly fifty pieces wasn't bad at all.

  
By the time evening rolled around, most of Jinyoung's things either fit in his tiny closet or on top of his vanity drawer or could be thrown onto his bed for emergency purposes. His boxes were packed to the bursting and taped firmly shut. Shipping back to Jinhae again will hurt his wallet, but that was a problem for a future Jinyoung

  
After his drama CD gig tomorrow morning, he would ask Joon to take him shopping for a good sized foam mat. He was lucky that the cheap laminated floorboards were springy and easy on the feet. It wouldn't be enough for everything of course. Jinyoung would still need to fight the trainees for practice slots and bully Yugyeom into spotting for him, at least if he wanted to do more complicated routines and learn new moves. But it was enough for typical practice, especially with Jinyoung's less strenuous dance style. He would wheedle himself into more vocal lessons too. That was what Youngjae had replaced him for. Jinyoung wasn't going to make that mistake a second time.

  
Because right now, Im Jaebeom was out there with a one of a kind signed photocard that might be worth millions of won in the future. Jinyoung wasn't going to tick that value up with only B-list drama roles to his name. If he was getting too old to debut with a group, then he'll just have to do it as a soloist. He'll work his bones to their breaking point until he's so good even JYP will have no choice but to approve him. In 5 years, 10 years, he'll make that little photocard worth its weight in diamonds.

  
Destiny messed with the wrong fucking person when she crossed Park Jinyoung.

"Well, well, well, look who finally crawled out of the abyss," Jackson cackled as Jinyoung marched into the kitchen with a growling stomach. "What were you doing all day?"

  
"Just a little cleaning," Jinyoung shrugged, careful to keep his tone light and unassuming.

  
Jackson laughed in his face. "You? Cleaning! Man, I should have introduced you to sunbae earlier. He really did a number on you didn't he? I'm kinda jealous. Sunbae works fast."

"You wish." Jinyoung clicked his tongue. He pilfered a piece of mushroom from the pile Jackson had on the cutting board next of a simmering green pot of something on the stove. "What's for dinner?"

"You sure Jinyoungie?" Jackson's stupid grin grew even bigger if that were possible. He was practically singing. "They're leeeentils, with green coconut curry and lamb and tofu skin and miiiiint. You can still order your usual take out you know. The place is still open."

Jinyoung groaned. "Just tell me how good it is for me like you usually do." 

"Your cardiovascular system will be thanking me for months."

"...Fine." With a deep fortifying breath, Jinyoung went to get two bowls and enough silverware for the both of them. "I'll make us rice then."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. There's no rice with this curry."

"Bitch...what the **_fuck_** do you mean no rice?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol also for those concerned, the weird format changes have been fixed in the last chapter, sorry about that btw hahaha
> 
> Happy New Years my shoebill storks!


	5. Snaggy Bumpy Yarn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feelings can't always be easy, and straightforward...actually scratch that. They're never like that.
> 
> or
> 
> Thinking is hard. Feelings are hard. Everything's just hard

Jaebeom could feel the prickle of a sly grin like a parasite on the back of his head despite it being far too dark for Mark to see more than a vague silhouette of him from the staff office. For once, Jaebeom was here to develop legitimate additions to his portfolio. The least Mark could do was leave him in peace.

Jaebeom carefully lifted his paper from its bath of chemicals and hung it on this personal rack with easy, practiced movements. After packing the rest of his materials away, he abandoned the station for the next student in line. Carefully he carried his rack to the drying area, barely finding a place on the packed shelves. Then he shuffled off towards the office.

The dim amber light struck all the high points of Mark's fine bone structure, casting deep shadows beneath his brow bone and off the side of his nose that made the grinning teacher's assistant look absolutely vampiric. Jaebeom pressed his mouth into a thin line and glared back, but Mark's Chesire face didn't even quiver.

“So,” Mark drawled, dragging the words out over more beats than anyone should ever try to, “landscapes today huh? Some nice skyline shots too. That’s different for you, Beomie. Not even a single human figure?”

Jaebeom grunted, not dignifying his friend with a verbal answer.

“I guess things are just different after you meet the literal man of your dreams. There’s no looking away”

“Can you stop?” Jaebeom snarled. He could feel the heat flare up in his face. He turned his head sharply away. Hopefully, with the safelight, Mark wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.

Jaebeom never breathed a word to his friend about Jinyoung’s bike boy identity, and Mark has only ever seen black and white blurs of Jinyoung’s face in moving shots. He couldn’t possibly know. Even so, it irritated Jaebeom all the same, unease crackling like too much static on the ends of his nerves.

He hadn’t taken another early morning picture for nearly two weeks.

If he were a halfway decent person, he would have shredded them all and throw them away.

“He's a celebrity, Mark-hyung. Think about that for a hot second. Besides, he’s probably not even gay.” Jaebeom sighed. “They never are.”

Mark jabbed him in the ribs with an elbow. “Excuse me? Hello? Were we at the same party, Jaebeom? Was I hallucinating that boy in your lap?”

Jaebeom rolled his eyes. Mark’s American roots reared its head at the weirdest times. It’s like the older boy never watched TV.

“So he’s physically affectionate," Jaebeom grumbled. "Lots of idols are like that. Have you seriously not run into the kissing videos on Naver?”

"...What the fuck do you watch?" Mark's blank face told Jaebeom everything he needed to know. "Nevermind, all I know is that a cute boy went into that room calling you sunbaenim, and came out wrapped like cling film to his new hyung."

With a groan that was at least half whimper, Jaebeom folded his arms and burrowed into them. He could have sobbed when he first heard the word fall from Jinyoung's beautiful lips, an unholy amalgamation of everything meant to stop Jaebeom's heart. Bare minimum? Maybe, but that was life as a Junior fan.

"Just...just trust me." He muttered through his arms. "It's not weird for them. Besides, you had BamBam in your lap half the night. Are you two secretly fucking behind my back?"

"Don't talk about him like that; he's a baby." Mark slapped Jaebeom smartly on the arm. "But since you brought it up, we're not also straight. It's kind of how you met me. remember?"

And boy, does he ever. Thinking back, they were some of the worst decisions Jaebeom had ever made. He blamed Seoul's wild party atmosphere and the newfound taste of college freedom. Jaebeom produced back in Ilsan, sure, he even performed at a couple of places now and again, and had a dance crew he still talked to. But there really was nothing like the hazy, colorful, vaguely metrosexual Seoulite underground that opened it's neon maw and devoured anyone who came too close. It was where Jaebeom spent drowning most of his freshman year amidst dance clubs and gay bars, at first for the showcases that tend to set up there, but more and more for the flashing lights and beautiful men who smelled like booze and cigarettes.

Jaebeom sank deeper into arms.

"Come on, he's hot. You're kinda hot. What's the harm?" Mark smirked. "And he lives with Jackson Wang, of all people. We see Jackson all the time. You literally could not have picked a more tappable idol. Not everyone gets to meet their gay awakening, Jaebeom, don't sabotage yourself before the game even starts."

Mark was dirty. Jaebeom felt dirty. JInyoung was too precious to be sullied by this hedonistic behavior.

Seven hours later, when his eyes were red from insomnia, Jaebeom sang a different tune.

When you make something a career, at some point, it becomes just another job. As much as he loved photography, sometimes even Jaebeom had to escape the camera, to find himself in other things. Music was his answer.

His relationship with music was complicated. Strictly speaking, Jaebeom only ever associated music - his own or not - with the festering poisons of his brain, things to be released and gotten rid of. He grew up dancing his aggression away. The heavy beats of American Hip-hop and the sharp rough movements that accompanied them tired his body and kept him from schoolyard brawls and temper tantrums. Some time in high school choir, he learned to use his voice to similar exhaustive purpose. Later on, music theory taught him how to better dissect and reconstruct a song until it suited his stormy moods even better. They too became tools to help hammer his trigger-happy personality out into something a little more coherent, a little more productive.

But tonight it wasn't working.

Jaebeom growled as he dug his fingers into his scalp, refusing to look at the depressingly blank file on his laptop screen.

The clock chimed midnight some nebulous cloud of time ago, but Jaebeom was still up fiddling with his audio files and nonsensical lyrics, too tired to think but too uncomfortable to fall asleep.

Music never failed him, and he was sure it wouldn't have this time either if he could just straighten his head out and actually think of something worth putting down instead of going over his earlier conversation with Mark with a fine tooth comb.

Mark was only trying to be helpful, but that did Jaebeom no good. The problem was Mark had the angle all wrong.

Jaebeom was long past the imploding self-esteem that characterized his earlier years. He was fine with himself, in all his painfully awkward socially inept glory. He wasn't that bad looking. His face was alright, average but not ugly. He had some height going for him, people always liked that, men or women. If he could keep a lid on some of his more off-beat hobbies, he'd even call himself a decent if typical catch.

And therein, the problem lay.

The typical gravitated towards the extraordinary. People flocked around those special few who turned heads and shone at the center of their own micro-universes. Park Jinyoung was one such person, impossibly magnetic, not only beautiful and talented but friendly and so so kind. People like him simply didn't stop for typical.

Heaving himself off his bed, Jaebeom carefully picked his way over to his desk. The pictures above it had changed. His Jinhae exclusive photocard was replaced by a recent magazine ad for a popular cafe that had a particularly sultry shot of Jinyoung's lips pressed against a crimson cherry he'd picked off a cake. Every time Jaebeom saw it, he wanted to chew on Jinyoung's juice-stained bottom lip.

He ignored it, dropped to his feet to open his bottom drawer where he kept his albums and DVDs. Quietly, he picked up his most well-loved edition of Bounce, the one where the oil of his fingers had worn into the cover and spine, where the colors were just slightly light-bleached, and the edges of the pages were just the least bit fuzzy from all the times he'd thumbed over them. His precious signed photocard was tucked inside, on it's matching page in the mini photo book.

He's still a little giddy over it, warmth flushing into his cheeks at the memory. He'd always had a soft spot for Jinyoung's earlier days when the satori in his voice was still prevalent and his tones were still high and boyish. That was the Jinyoung who had taken him first away from his growl matches with his old man, and then from his mother's weary face as she came home exhausted from soul-crushing work to a son who could barely stumble through the few chores she'd left him with.

Through it all, Jinyoung's bright laugh with its defined 'ha' sound that teetered on the border of awkward and adorable dragged him out of the darker recesses of his head. No matter where Jinyoung was, even on the little Instagram lives he used to do where all he was doing was listening to music or laughing at stupid memes people posted in the comments, his tone was warm and inviting, easy to love. It didn't matter how many times Jaebeom told himself it wasn't real, that it was all an idol fantasy packaged and sold like an expensive dream. Before long, he'd watched every live, every drama, every scrap of CF that dedicated Junior fans, watchful eagles with far more time and resources than he, could scrounge up and post on Naver. He was smitten.

At the time he thought his mother didn't understand why Jaebeom spent so much time bent over his phone or their shared laptop, but his mother was the one who bought him his first album with a smile and a wink.

As a 17-year-old high school junior, practically an adult, Jaebeom crumpled into his mother's shoulder and bawled as all the little stress knots inside him unraveled bit by bit. Unphased, she had slowly pulled apart her tangled mess of a child and bundled and rolled until everything was back together again and everything was okay.

  
She still teased him about it sometimes; still told all her friends and inevitably got Jaebeom's cheeks pinched crimson by cooing middle-aged women in thick knitted shawls.

There was no home more fitting for his most valuable photocard.

Gently, he ran his thumb over the plastic sleeve before turning the card around to trace the elegant rounded script of the signature with the tip of his nail. Of course, Jinyoung's handwriting was as beautiful as the rest of him, the individual characters lined up neatly but effortlessly.

Closing his eyes, he dug up every detail in his memory of that single incredible morning. How he awoke with Jinyoung's lithe form tucked up against him, breathing soft and deep. The faint smell of jasmine drifting off the silky dark locks, mild and sweet but mixed with a pleasantly green leafy smell that lingered on his pillow for days afterward. The delicate shadows of Jinyoung's eyelashes on the full curve of his cheek. The soft heat of Jinyoung's translucent skin as he dared to stroke it with careful fingers.

The memory flooded his body with heat, and Jaebeom collapsed back onto his bed feverish and breathing hard. Carefully, he took the photocard out and put down his precious album on to next to his pillow and half buried his face into the fabric. His comfortable sleep shirt grew hot and uncomfortable and he couldn't rip it off fast enough. If he concentrated the trailing touch of his own fingers across his skin, feather-light the way Jinyoung's had skimmed over his arms and shoulders all those days ago, no longer seemed like his own.

Jaebeom was very used to dreaming.

When he was done he lay breathing hard into the teeth marks he'd dug into his own forearm. Cold seeped into his body that had nothing to do with the frigid night air. Something in the back of his mind sneered at him, a thin reedy voice that burrowed past all his warm memories and needled its way into the weak underbelly of his thoughts. For all his fancies, he had stolen each of these moments, every touch, every scent, every sight...Just like he stole those photos sitting at the very bottom of that same drawer. Just like the glimpses he still stole early every weekday morning in the watery half-light of dawn.

With a shaky breath, Jaebeom slowly wiped off the sleeve of his card with alcohol wipes he kept in the dresser drawer, slid the card back into his album, and packed it all away back into his desk. He spent another hour pounding out his guilt on the keyboard before finally collapsing into a dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol another short chapter mostly because this is more of an interlude than anything and doesn't really belong to any single event, Just Jaebs being a grouchy emo kid dealing with his gays


	6. Paper Thin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the evils of the market economy 
> 
> what are dreams worth when you can't reach for them?

Jinyoung yawned so wide his jaw hurt. Class had been particularly brutal this morning with everyone being held back for the professor to make an example of two students involved in a minor plagiarism issue for one of the journals. Frankly, it was ridiculous. While technically they weren't supposed to copy the letter of the material for any assignment, the purpose of daily journals in the first place was to check for reading. In that light, it made little sense to cause a fuss over what was a frivolous matter at best and wasting everyone else's time. There had to be some kind of mutual student-staff contract breach about that. As a result, Jinyoung was forced to waste the half an hour he should have had to eat before he had to run down to the JYPE building for his meeting. He grumbled and pulled his sweater more tightly around him. Maybe he should have worn a coat today instead. It's been getting chilly lately, and today the sky was thick with clouds. His mood was only made worse by his recent late nights.

The past two weeks had been harder than he would have liked. Between daily evening dance reviews and voice training videos he found online, Jinyoung's body was virtually creaking as it transitioned back into the kind of fast-paced schedule it hadn't been on since he'd been preparing for the debut that would never come.

But really that was all his fault.

Half a year ago, he would have laughed at a schedule like this, bought another vending machine coffee, and found time to pen in a new novel series somewhere just to fill up the dead time. The fact that this was so hard now meant that, for all the soul searching he'd been convincing himself he'd done, all he'd managed to do was slack off.

Tallying up all his offenses, Jinyoung really was his own worst enemy.  
  
"Jinyoung," Joon's deep voice snapped him out of his stupor. He hard Jinyoung's shoulder clamped in one hand. "Are you sick?"

"Oh, hi hyung," Jinyoung blinked up at his manager, "what do you mean?"

Beneath his dark sunglasses, Joon's mouth was pressed into a firm thin line. "Did you get any sleep last night?"

Sleep? Jinyoung snorted. Of course, he got to sleep. If he'd powered through it with energy drinks like he used to do, he'd ten times more alert, excited. Really maybe he should have done that he'd have survived the hell class a lot better.

"I just missed breakfast hyung. Seunie's away, remember?" Jinyoung said instead, "Class got in the way. I'm fine."

"Hush, you look like a ghost," Joon silenced him with a palm pressed to his forehead, frown staying firmly in place. After testing it against his own forehead, the manager sighed. "I swear Park Jinyoung, you would die on your feet if someone wasn't looking after you. I thought living with an athlete would help, but you're just as careless as ever."

Jinyoung chucked as Joon ushered him into the car. "You worry too much hyung. I can take it fine."

"Yah! Don't think you're invincible just because you're young!"

"Sure, Joon-hyung, sure," Jinyoung muttered fondly to himself as he leaned back to look at the beginnings of a shower that speckled the window with glittering drops.

The next time Jinyoung woke up, it was to a steaming plastic bowl and spoon being shoved into his hand. He looked blankly down at the hearty stewed pork and vegetable omelet sitting innocently on top of steaming white rice.  
  
"Hyung?"

"Eat all of it," Joon said getting into the driver's seat with a large coffee. His shoulders were spotted with rain. "You have time. There's traffic on the highway so I called ahead. This convenience store stuff isn't good for you, but once in a while is fine. It's better than nothing."

"Thanks, hyung." Jinyoung smiled and took a scalding hot bite. The rice steamed in his mouth, so fresh it was close to burning. The stewed pork disintegrated without chewing, and the eggs were more like cream than egg, tender and so soft it mixed into the rice like rich savory custard. It was fatty and salty and terrible and so so good. Even the slightly mushy rice. It's been nearly two weeks since he had proper white rice, Jackson having switched them to some coarsely milled mixed grain stuff that tasted grassy and never quite got soft no matter how much you boiled it.

Jinyoung finished in record time, burning tongue and all.

"Is there any coffee for me hyung?" Jinyoung wheedled when he finally stopped long enough to breathe. he stuck his bottom lip out in its signature pout and tilted his head.

"No, babies who have to be force-fed don't get coffee," Joon spared one hand from the wheel to poke Jinyoung hard in the forehead. "Your milk is in the bag."

"But hyuuung," Jinyoung whined to no avail.

"Don't 'hyung' me, you little troublemaker. Drink it like a good boy."

Jinyoung sighed but reached down to his feet and fumbled with the convenience store bag until his fingers wrapped around the squat neck of a bottle of pink strawberry milk. It was a little sweet, but after his stew and rice, it wasn't bad.

"Besides," Joon said quietly, "You've probably had more than enough caffeine already for the day."

Well, he wasn't wrong.

When he stepped off the car by the JYPE building, the jitters hit. Jinyoung's breath cut itself short and the fine hairs on his arms and legs prickled with imaginary electricity. His bones felt scarily light, hollow and brittle like they were about to cave under his own weight. Honestly, he should be more grateful that Joon had the forethought not feed him any more stimulants.

The manager's hand was firm and warm on his shoulder, grounding, but it was short-lived. With a quick good-bye and thumbs up, Joon disappeared off to his own work.

Then, they showed up.

"Jinyoungie!" Hoseok reached him first; Hoseok always reached him first and seized Jinyoung in a tackle-hug so forceful the younger boy almost crumpled to the floor. With one hand on either arm, Hyunwoo and Sungjin steadied him with laughter on their faces. Wonpil, who was a giant and heavier than Hoseok, also draped himself over Jinyoung's back uninvited, until Jinyoung felt wonderfully crushed beneath their combined weight. The maknae, tugging a yawning Brian between them, twittered behind him like little birds. By the time they caught up, their little bubble had enveloped Jinyoung and sucked him into its warmth.

Jinyoung feels a bit like an origami, tossed around between them, thin and fragile. It was a good type of fragility, maybe, a fragility that let him bend and fold to fit inside the tiny little nooks and crannies they still had available. So he welcomed them in return, hugged them with his paper arms and greeted them with his paper voice.  
  
If being paper tossed about on the wind was the only way Jinyoung could fly far enough, fast enough; if being paper let Jinyoung finally catch up and float along beside them; then being paper was just fine with him.  
  
When Lucky7 bid him good luck and disappeared into their practice room, they took Jinyoung's jitters with them. There were even remnants of a grin dancing at the corner of his lips as he stepped into the elevator.  
  
"Ah, Jinyoung-ah, you're finally here," the secretary greeted him politely, "please head inside. He's gone ahead and met up with another idol during the lag time, but he should be finished soon. Just wait outside the door."  
  
"Thank you noona," Jinyoung dipped his head in a shallow bow as he walked past her.

JYP, in keeping with his mercurial image, had quite the little waiting area outside of his office. He once told Jinyoung that if people with "urgent business" was going to demand to wait at his door anyway, he might as well make it comfortable for them. There was an entire couch along one wall, a coffee table with an array of magazines scattered over the top, a water cooler in the corner, and a 42-inch flat screen mounted on the wall playing the music videos of the various artists at an audible but unintrusive volume.

The door was just slightly open and Jinyoung could hear the murmur of voices from inside. Curious, Jinyoung sat on the very edge of the couch closest to the door.

"...with all due respect sir, I have the numbers, and that's only on my own youtube channel. I haven't added my twitter statistics or Naver reposts because I found that those didn't directly pertain to the discussion. If we factor in my Twitter engagement, the interest curve rises a lot higher. Imagine what that could mean if I went official." Jinyoung can barely make out the controlled professional voice through the music. "Interest fluctuates so wildly in this market sir if we strike while the iron is hot, it could really be something."

"Jae-ah." JYP's low even voice replied. Jinyoung's eyes widened, without the jokes and memes woven into his speech, he barely recognized his hyung. "You're speaking like a master when you are still a student. I know you're impatient. Trust me, I sympathize. I was young too once, you know. And because I was that I'm advising you, it's too soon."

"But sir, if I don't hit the interest curve now..." Taking a breath, Jinyoung closed his eyes and tried to block out the bright poppy tune of Girls, Girls, Girls. There was a rough edge to Jae's voice, something hard to hear but ragged. It took him back to their hiatus days, to seeing Jae stay back late into the night wearing his voice to shreds in the sound booth.

"You will hit it later and better," JYP said firmly. "Don't be in such a rush. You've got a good thing going, Jae-ah. You're a great variety personality, people love you, shows line up to book you."

"Because I'm the ignorant American!"

Jinyoung curled into himself as his origami heart was crushed in his chest.

Jae might talk like he lives online, he might be rude or crass or tactless, but he was the first person who kicked Jinyoung out of his blanket cocoon when Jinyoung first found out he wouldn't be debuting again. He was the first one to force Jinyoung to walk down to the corner store for meat buns he could have easily gotten himself. The first one to remind Jinyoung that disappointment was normal, expected. That his situation wasn't special and he should keep moving on. More than Jae's monster metabolism, Jinyoung envied his strength, his ability to switch gears instantaneously and use anything and everything he could get his hands on to his advantage. To hear him this frustrated tore at Jinyoung in a way he couldn't fully comprehend.

"Because you're young." JYP's voice pressed down like a physical weight. "You're young, unlearned, charming. And in time you will grow into a man with a mature respectable image, and your fans will grow with you and love you even more for it. Those 100,000 views might seem like so much right now, Jae-ah but if you just bide your time, we can turn those thousands into millions. You just have to be a bit more patient."

"But sir!"

"Just think about it, Jae...take some time and really think about it. I won't even stop you. It's a fun angle, just a boy with his guitar against the world. If that's what you want to be on YouTube, as long as the PR department approves of it, your channel is yours. We'll talk about it more in the future, but now is not the time."

"...Yes sir."

And the guillotine came down.

Jinyoung hung in the moment like an unused marionette. He's not sure how long he sat there. The voices, the bright poppy music, even the rain pounding on the window, everything slipped away.

"Jinyoung?" Jae's faded voice pulled Jinyoung's head up to regard the older boy standing just beyond the doorway. "What are you doing here?"

"Hi, hyung." Both their smiles were stiff and doll-like on their faces. Jinyoung couldn't even look Jae straight in the eye. "Nothing just...just contract renewal. We're only discussing things for now. It won't be for a while."

Jae's nod looked oddly weightless, just a slow bob of his head.

They hug because it's what they do, a response so ingrained into them that it'd be nigh impossible to unlearn. Jae's nails sank like claws into Jinyoung's sweater, and Jinyoung's talons dug into the nylon of Jae's thin windbreaker. Jae let go first, floated away like an orphaned balloon, leaving Jinyoung to try to press out his crinkled edges. With a deep breath, he knocked politely on JYP's open door.

"Oh Junior, there you are." JYP waved him in. There was a smile on his face, fresh and unassuming. It's probably not the face he wore to speak with Jae, but it's hard to kill the image in Jinyoung's head.

"Yes sir, I'm sorry for my tardiness. Jinyoung said quietly. The chair in front of the CEO's desk felt bigger than usual as if it might drown Jinyoung if he sank far enough into it.

"Don't mind it, traffic was was awful today." JYP chuckled. "So contract renewal coming up, huh? What do you make of it? Any thoughts?"

"I..." All the words Jinyoung had painstakingly prepared dried up in his throat. His head felt transparent as if it was behind held up to a window and seen through. "...I don't know what to think about it, sir. It's...It's what it is, I suppose."

"That's alright; everything starts somewhere. It's an awkward discussion for all of us." The producer's voice was unaffected, so easy and relaxed that it only made Jinyoung feel smaller. "I'll be honest with you, Junior, after Nunbal and this last round of commercials, you're doing pretty good debt-wise. Only a few million won left to go, that's what, another 3 or 4 good roles? Maybe some side gigs. You could sign another 2 or 3 year, finish everything up, and walk off home Scott- free, focus on school maybe. It's a perfectly respectable decision. I don't think any non-group act from your batch is doing this well on pure numbers."

"Thank you, sir."

"Although," Jinyoung more than expected it, but the hairs on the back of his neck prickled like little pins when the CEO drew out his breath before speaking again, "I'm sure you've tasted the feeling of celebrityhood already. Call to you, doesn't it? You could also sign a longer contract, say another 7 years, stay with us for the long haul and really get your career off the ground. I'm not saying I expect you to. I wouldn't test the fates that much, but I'm telling you, Junior, I've had a good feeling since you passed those auditions, eh? It'll come. Besides, retiring now, while you've got so much further to rise, it feels a little anti-climatic doesn't it? Honestly, after all the light and camera's my boy, going back to desk work - it's just not the same. Take it from a fellow JYP."

Jinyoung's neck creaked mechanically as he nodded. "I'll think on it carefully, sir."

The older man stared at Jinyoung for a while before he let out a sigh, long and deep. "You heard my discussion with Jae coming in, isn't that right?"

"I...yes sir. I wasn't trying to." Jinyoung bit the inside of his cheek trying to get the words out. The metallic taste of blood only made him more nauseous.

"No, no, that's not inherently a bad thing," JYP assured him, getting up from his desk. "We are a transparent company, Junior-ah. But, I think now you know why we need to have a little talk of cour own."

Cold water washed all down his nerves, numbing them. "Yes sir."

"So, I see you've been taking some new classes and signing up for dance-room blocks."

"Just... just for a little self-improvement," Jinyoung said. JYP raised a thick eye-brow and got up from his desk to walk around to lean against it, much closer to Jinyoung. They both knew he was lying.

"Junior-ah," Jinyoung tried not to shrink under the hand that pat his shoulder, "this isn't what you're trying to make it, believe me. I'm not going to yell at you for taking singing classes. Truthfully, I wish even half of my trainees were as dedicated. You've become a regular Swiss army knife of different talents over our years together, and keeping each blade sharp is important. But I don't want to give you false expectations. That's as evil as any amount of slave driving I could force on you. You've already heard the crux of it, right? So I won't repeat myself too much. Please, just trust me. As long as you remain with JYPE I will do my best for you not just in terms of this company but for your future success. I have the experience. I have the knowledge. That's what you young ones are relying on me for, no? That goes for Jae too, and for all my artists. What reason could I possibly gain from sabotaging you, right? Nothing."

"...Yes sir." Jinyoung said, nodding numbly.

He drifted through the close of the meeting and let himself be ushered out the door without complaint. JYP had afternoon engagements to get to. He'd probably taken up too much time with Jinyoung already.

That was the problem with paper. In the end, it's all theoretical.

-o-

Im Jaebeom cursed as the rain came down harder. He tugged at his flimsy rain poncho trying to cover both himself and his camera bag without much avail. With a groan, he ducked under the nearest overhang as the rumbling sky mocked him.

Normally, Jaebeom liked going to work, loved the tiny photo studio in the heart of Seoul. The smiling old owner and her son went about their business at a clipped pace making their living off passport photos and the occasional fat baby swaddled in embroidered silks for their fortune tellings. They kept Jaebeom on his toes, and held him to a higher standard. He walked off every shift tired but satisfied.  
  
The studio itself was a puzzle. It sat the back corner of a nondescript office building, the cardboard copy of thousands of others in the city. But despite its humble outsides, the shop was hung with swathes of colors and fanciful fabrics, its corners stuffed with little knick-knacks and odd props. One of these days, Jaebeom just wanted to dig through it all and see what little odds and ends he could find. Maybe put them together into some kind of outlandish joke set to force his friends into.

On this particular day, however, work put him in the middle of downtown, seven blocks away from the nearest train station with a borrowed camera that absolutely could not get wet.

He knew he should have brought his umbrella today.

Chewing on his bottom lip, Jaebeom weighed his options. He could make a break for it, cover his camera bag as well as he could and forget about getting home dry, risking a cold just as midterm projects were coming up. He could just stay where he was, and do nothing waiting for whenever the rain decided to stop.

Or...he could weave under as many rooftops as he could and get something at the Soul Cafe under the JYPE building which sat a single block away opposite the train.  
Soul Cafe was the one exception to Jaebeom's ban on all public idol-related activities. Rain or shine, the cafe was perpetually crowded, packed thicker with hopeful fans than a tin of dried smelt. There were all sorts of people, tweenage boys fantasizing over beautiful actresses to middle age women who had been fans of the company founder in his heyday. Who was to say which celebrity any one customer was camping to see? On top of that, in every eye in the cafe was there with intent, no one would look twice at Jaebeom.

His wallet would grumble at him for weeks, but Jaebeom was cold and miserable and expensive organic hot cocoa and a chance to catch Jinyoung out of the corner of his eye sounded like the kind of heaven he was willing to pay for.

Readjusting his useless rain poncho, Jaebeom hopped the gaps between awnings headed for the cafe. He was so busy trying to keep himself reasonably dry, he almost missed the flash of black and red on the other side of the street.

Jaebeom whirled around.

The familiar sweater sat very differently on Jinyoung's body now than in his photocard. Where it once shrouded Jinyoung's thin frame like a wearable blanket, the materially now pulled across his shoulders and outlined his broader torso. The long sleeves exaggerated to obscure his hands in keeping with his innocent boyish charm now fell fashionably low on them, wrinkling the pattern at his wrists and revealing the barest hint of a knuckle and his long tapered fingers.

It suited him well in a completely new way.

But something was off. There was an unstableness to the way he walked. Though his head was locked forward, his body didn't seem to obey, following along as if it was being tugged. There seemed to be no sense of weight or direction to his form, and he weaved as if being carried by an invisible gust.

Something cold and heavy sank into Jaebeom's chest at the sight.

"Jin..." Jaebeom clacked his teeth shut before he could make a huge mistake. Jinyoung was a rising star in the drama world. Maybe he wasn't being stopped by paparazzi in the street yet, but Jaebeom calling out to him in public could still cause problems. With gritted teeth, Jaebeom made sure his camera bag was covered and dashed out into the rain.

For a person who didn't seem to be headed anywhere, Jinyoung moved quickly. By the time Jaebeom was hopping foot to foot at the crosswalk, he was already a speck in the distance. Once across Jaebeom took off, splashing water everywhere and earning a fair share of dirty looks at his retreating back. By the time he'd caught up to Jinyoung, he was completely drenched, eyes stinging from squinting through the rain and breathing in gulps of frigid air that felt sharp in his lungs.

It was by luck that he caught one of Jinyoung's hands, swaying carelessly at his side.  
  
"Jinyoung-ssi," he gasped, "are you okay?"  
  
When Jinyoung looked at Jaebeom, the corners of his eyes and mouth were soft, turned down on his face as if whatever was holding them in place had simply collapsed. Above them, his eyes were feverish, taken over by a glassy shine that reflected everything like an impenetrable mirror.

"Jaebeom-Hyung." Jinyoung's voice was quiet, absent of its usual fullness. For a moment between a heartbeat and an eternity, they looked at each other, just breathing. "You're using formal form."

Then Jinyoung's bottom lip began to tremble, glistening wetly in the neon glow of store windows. His eyes scrunched together, their distinctive wrinkles making them look puffy like he'd been crying for hours. The delicate bridge of his nose crinkled with each sniffle, and the pouches of his cheeks puffed out and rounded every bit of sharpness out of his jawline.

Jaebeom was intimately familiar with every detail of Park Jinyoung's crying face. He'd studied it as closely as he had the megawatt smile. The was no end of haphazard or cheesy scenes the idol-actor could sell convincingly with a well-placed tear or two. Jaebeom watched every last one of them, clawing his own heart out with the need to wrap the young actor in a hug away from anyone and anything that sought to harm him. Even senior actors respected the rawness of Jinyoung's crying scenes, praised him for throwing away his idol good looks to bring life to his characters' distress.

None of that prepared Jaebeom to meet it face to face.

Unlike the films, Jinyoung's real descent was slow. Each feature seemed to sink independently until his entire face gave away to misery. The loud dry sobs that usually wracked his body were nowhere to be seen, replaced by long quiet breaths barely audible beneath the drumbeat of rain. He didn't double over. He didn't bite his lip to pieces or clench his hands and pound against the nearest window. But hid shoulders drooped just slightly and his body drew together just a bit until he looked too small, every bit of him backing as far away from Jaebeom as possible without moving.

"I...I'm sorry, Jinyoung-ah." Jaebeom stuttered tongue-tied. A thick viscous feeling filled his chest alternatively hot and cold. He felt wrong, unwelcomed as if he was intruding on something private as vulnerable. Shaking, he let go of Jinyoung's hand and pulled his own back.

Long warm fingers chased his and laced with his own. The slack grip they had before tightened into a bruising clutch and Jaebeom was left somehow holding hands with Park Jinyoung.

His brain short-circuited. Jaebeom could hear the sparks fizzing inside his head. He mumbled something about the nearby convenience store.

Jinyoung didn’t react, except to curl their hands harder together, but when Jaebeom moved he followed.

-o-

Jinyoung isn't sure how this could get much worse. Today was supposed to be his day. He'd been working so hard, he knew his record showed it. He was supposed to walk into JYP's office, head held high, and respectfully, firmly, professionally demand to be allowed his due classes and practice slots, his chance. He was supposed to sound so determined, so confident that even the looming producer-CEO would be forced to back down and acknowledge his convictions in fear that he would walk.

Jinyoung stumbled forward, trying not to be sick to his stomach.

He'd gotten basically everything he could have possibly asked for, his vocal classes, his practice room times...but there he was, confidence in tatters. How did he let himself get to this point? He wanted to run but he couldn't, scream but he couldn't. He needed someone, something, anything.

But Hoseok was practicing so hard. Jinyoung had seen dark circles become permanent fixtures of his smile since Lucky7's latest comeback dates were announced. His hyungs would be the same. The timing was too horrible in the fall season, they would only feel bad for being forced to prioritize their group.

Yugyeom was working even harder, 4 years beneath his belt already and no debut in sight while the poor kid's debt only grew from under him. How could Jinyoung look him in the eye and complain about having work, even if it wasn't work he aspired to?

Jackson was nations away, with a tournament on the horizon in far off Singapore, with his own crop of monsters to slay. Jinyoung wasn't so terrible a friend that he would bother him now.

Jae would have been ideal. Jae would have known what to do, what to say, exactly to make Jinyoung recontextualize and think rather than feel until he snapped the fuck out of it already.

Except he wasn't.

There was no one.

"Jinyoung-ssi? Are you okay?"

And right at his lowest possible moment, Im Jaebeom appeared out of nowhere. His face was flushed red and he breathed hard around his words like he'd been running. His hand was cold and wet around Jinyoung's fingers, a shocking icy touch that shot up Jinyoung's arm. His rain poncho was on crooked, shielding only the black canvas bag strapped to his side, but leaving the boy himself dripping. His eyes were wide but warm, glittering like candlelight in the rain.

"Jaebeom-hyung," it didn't feel like Jinyoung was speaking with his own voice, as if it was something that'd surgically removed so it was no longer connected to his body, "You're using formal form."

Maybe it was that tiny bit of formality, that micrometer of difference in tone that create a polite distance between them.

Maybe it was just that he'd stayed still for too long and whatever he'd been running from had finally caught up and pounced.

Jinyoung crumpled.

He'd have to apologize to Jaebeom later. The older boy's face had drained of color and he mumbled an apology obscured by the pounding of rain. It was too late. Jinyoung's throat had already seized together.

He was supposed to be better than this. He'd been grilled over and over again on how to control the set of his shoulders and the features of his face, to laugh and cry on command, to be anything he needed to be. But when he reached for it, not a shred of that learning came, and he was left to desperately pull his quickly falling real face together. If he couldn't even act - the one thing his company actually wanted him to do - how could he aspire to dance and sing? What good was a pretend idol who couldn't even smile to reassure a worried fan? Where had he found the audacity?

Instead, It was Jaebeom's cold wet hand that wrapped around his, a grounding presence Jinyoung could focus on. Jinyoung clutched at it, lacing their fingers together as if the feeling could keep him from crying. It was Jaebeom's soothing voice that asked him, low and sweet, if he wanted to duck into a convenience store to wait out the rain. It was Jaebeom who led him past the single teenage worker with her headphones in and Jaebeom's wallet who paid for their bowls of kimchi ramen and smoked duck eggs.

All Jinyoung could do was stare at it.

"Jinyoung-ah." Jinyoung was grateful for the softness of his tone. He wasn't sure he could handle anything louder than the buzzing inside his own head at the moment. "You should eat...before it gets mushy I mean."

Gingerly, he wrapped his hands around the styrofoam bowl, hissing at the sudden, almost scalding heat.

"Careful, you don't want burns logged with pepper," Jaebeom said. His mouth had formed a little 'o' and he was almost cooing as he steadied the bowl in Jinyoung's hands. Jinyoung wondered if he had a younger sibling he was used to doting on. He'd be a good older brother.

The ramen was good, higher on the spice scale than Jinyoung was used to but salty and fortifying to Jinyoung's thoroughly chilled body. The smoked egg, it's yolk just barely gelled together, lent the noodles a rich toasty aroma that reminded Jinyoung faintly of the roasted chestnuts he used to buy back in little paper pockets to warm his hands on cold days back in Jinhae. Strangely enough, it was exactly what he needed.

Across the table Jaebeom dripped over his own bowl as he slurped down his ramen like he might die of pneumonia before he finished them. Jinyoung found himself staring as the endless stream of noodles were sucked down in hypnotic rhythm, Jaebeom's Adam's apple bobbing with every mouthful. The peppery broth and kimchi didn't seem to bother him at all. Needless to say, he reached the bottom of the small bowl very quickly.

When he put the bowl down to take what may very well be his first full breath since they started eating, Jinyoung tapped his elbow.

"I'm on a diet," Jinyoung said as he pushed his bowl over. It wasn't untrue, this morning's convenience store breakfast aside, Jinyoung didn't remember a time when he wasn't on some kind of eating plan or other. Jaebeom looked like he could use the heat, and besides, he just ate so well. He could probably do professional mukbangs. He also would have been a good deal drier if he hadn't run after Jinyoung in the rain.

Jaebeom blinked at him slowly. When Jinyoung made no move to take his bowl back, he began to devour the rest of Jinyoung's portion too. Jinyoung took a strange satisfaction in watching it disappear just as quickly.

Jinyoung sank down into the uncomfortable plastic stool, bucking under the weight of his own body. Now that it had stopped moving,g it sagged uselessly, and whatever force that kept him upright seeped away. The table was cool beneath his cheek, damp and tacky the way shoddy plastic always seemed to be no matter how well it was cleaned. He really should have brought his coat, he could have lent it to Jaebeom. The other looked about half way to freezing to death and ridding the world of the last remaining person who still supported Jinyoung's doomed music career. His old sweater was barely large enough to go on Jinyoung's shoulders anymore, only around because Jinyoung kept stubbornly tugging it on every other week through force of habit. It couldn't dream of containing Jaebeom's monsters.

"Please don't, that's really dirty," Jaebeom's voice broke Jinyoung out of his thoughts. "You never know what people just sit here and do, right?"

Jinyoung puffed out a heavy breath but nonetheless picked himself up off the table. It's too bad this place didn't have the vinyl booth seats like the 7-11 by his apartment. He could have leaned on the back.

Looking up at Jaebeom he tried to put on a smile. Nothing came, his lips barely twitching up before losing their way and going as slack as the rest of his face.

"Jinyoung-ah." it was cute how awkward the honorific sounded in Jaebeom's mouth, like something expensive that he didn't dare pick-up. "You don't have to keep doing that. It's okay, you know? We all have off days. They happen."

Jaebeom's voice was quiet and sweet, but he just didn't get it. He really didn't and Jinyoung wasn't sure if he loved it or hated it. Somehow, it was this that dragged a breathy empty chuckle from his mouth.

Jaebeom fidgeted in his seat, touching his face over and over and tugging at his shoulder strap. He mumbled other things, words that disappeared as they blurred together beneath his lips until they trailed off and blended into the sound of rain drumming on the windows. Jinyoung wouldn't have been able to hear a thing even if he tried.

Well, fuck it. Whatever image Jaebeom had of Junior was probably ruined anyway.

"What if it's not an off day?" Jinyoung said, folding his hand in front of him. Jaebeom head snapped around until their eyes met. Jinyoung leaned forward with his mouth set in a grim line. "What if it's an off week, an off month, an off year? Where do we draw the line then? If every day is an off day, isn't that just incompetence? Isn't that person just not good enough?"

Jaebeom's mouth had fallen open. He probably hadn't been expecting Jinyoung to answer at all. Well, it was too late. If Jaebeom didn't want Jinyoung to run his mouth he shouldn't have said anything at all. Jinyoung might as well ruin this for himself too, so he can quickly get over his wild delusion and be content with things he could realistically achieve.

"What if someone gets everything they ask for - with blessings - but they still aren't happy? What kind of person does that make them?" A bubble welled up in Jinyoung's throat, air from places inside him that he'd never been aware of. It let him speak but it also stayed stuck in his airway and choked him up. "What if all their plans go awry and they become worthless? What if, for all their efforts, everything will come in time but they don't want that time? Should they really wear themselves out to force things to move faster? Isn't that failure in its own way?'

Jinyoung was breathing harder again, almost hissing through his teeth. When he stopped it was more for his benefit than Jaebeom's.

"What's your take on it, Jaebeom-hyung?"

It struck him that maybe the more formal deflective speech was probably the wrong way to rant at someone, even dumber because he'd just cried over Jaebeom's fucking honorifics for goodness sake. Was there some kind of etiquette for ranting? Jinyoung bit his lip to prevent a snarl from leaving his lips. He probably looked even more like an idiot now, or maybe just really fucking pretentious. Some kind of high-society madman with old-fashioned manners he had no idea how to use.

That was a thought. Jinyoung too was chasing after a worthless harbor light.

"There's an American author." It was Jinyoung's turn to gape at his companion. Instead of the twisted brows and disgusted frown he expected, Jaebeom wasn't even looking at him. The older boys eyes had drifted towards the ceiling in thought, his mouth, fallen into a neutral half-pout. "Salinger, I think his name was."

Jinyoung's not sure if he should or shouldn't be surprised that he recognized the name. Perhaps it was just one of those things that came in dealing with Im Jaebeom.

"He once wrote about a character who logistically had things very easy. He could have gone anywhere he wanted, done almost anything. All it would have taken was maybe a little talking, a little cash that was pretty much expendable to him. But he couldn't stay happy, you know? He...he had his moments, I guess, but they never lasted. The book itself was pretty opened ended, to be honest, so I don't think he ever got there. But you know, I always felt that it was because he always got what he asked for that he couldn't stay happy. All those things, a girlfriend, time off, his hat, only stood in for what he actually wanted. Maybe if he hadn't been chasing substitutes, he might have gotten somewhere."

Jinyoung blinked. Still trying to let it sink in that, aside from photography and music, apparently, Jaebeom had a head for literature too.

Beware the green-eyed monster, they said.

"Did you just compare my dance career to Holden Cauldfield's hat?"

Jinyoung caught the flush rising in Jaebeom's cheeks just in time before the older boy's head flopped down and hid them with his still-wet bangs. Jaebeom's mouth, however, was smiling just slighting at their corners.

"I just...I...thought you might have come across that one," he said quietly, "it's my favorite book. I mean, you haven't updated your reading list in a while, and I didn't see it there before, and I didn't want to assume but..."

"Hyung, it's fine." Jinyoung sighed, long and low. It was maybe not amusement, but the weird bubble inside him had dissolved back to wherever it came from. "It's hard not to run across that book as a literature major, even here. But wow...you're really everywhere aren't you? I can't believe you follow my book list. There are maybe 5 people following my book list. You aren't some weird new type of stalker are you, Hyung?"

Jaebeom sputtered, flailing until he almost tipped out of his seat. Somehow, even with Jinyoung's sour mood, it was funny. Jaebeom was lucky he didn't have any noodles left to choke on.

"It's not like that!" Jaebeom said so quickly he coughed the words out. "It's really not! I just...I work nearby, it's an alumni's studio. I swear it was pure coincidence!"

"It's okay hyung, we meet fans by pure coincidence a lot around Soul Cafe," Jinyoung said. He nodded along as Jaebeom turned redder and fumbled whatever he said into another indiscernible mass.

And somehow, he laughed. It wasn't loud or strong. Not the defined guffaws that usually came from him, nothing more than a quiet little hitch in his breathing now and again. But it picked at the gnarled knots in Jinyoung's chest until they loosened just a bit and made everything that tiny bit easier.

"You...you're jerking me around," Jaebeom said. His mouth was trying it's damnest to turn down, but it shivered as badly as he did. "Here I am spilling my heart out, and you're pulling my leg like they're temple bells."

"They're very nice temple bells," Jinyoung said. His mouth twitched up, and finally, finally, he managed to dig a fragment of his smile from the debris.

"Well, that-"

Angry beeping interrupted them. Jinyoung's phone vibrated so hard it clattered against the stool. After a quick apology nod, Jinyoung pulled it from his back pocket. Joon's caller ID flashed like an angry red beacon across the screen. Jinyoung's finger trembled just slightly as he swiped the call open.

"Joon-hyung?"

"Jinyoung, where are you!" the older man's voice was sharp even through the phone. "Why aren't you at the company? It's a deluge outside, where could you possibly have gone?"

"Sorry, hyung." Jinyoung fidgeted with the hem of his sweater and made a split second decision. "I went to a convenience store to get some stuff and ran into someone. Could you come pick us up?"

"Wait, us?"

Across the table, Jaebeom's face tensed up. He'd forgotten to look down again and he crimson apples of his cheeks glowed against his dark hair.

"Yeah, I'm with a friend. He's stranded here too, so if it's not too much trouble..."

"Alright, send me the address and stay put."

"Thank you Joon-Hyung."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol this is a particularly long one so I'll probably not be updating for a while
> 
> that and I've about come to the end of the chapters I've stock-piled and had betaed for Nanowrimo so now I'll have to sit tight and write more LOL


	7. Nesting Fluff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I run out of string puns
> 
> Jinyoung makes bad decisions. 
> 
> Creeper Jaebeom is lowkey cute, but don't try this at home kids.

Park Joon, boyband origins and all, cut an impressive figure. Pulling up through the storm in a sleek black car with an even sleeker classic business silhouette, his presence weighed down the atmosphere and dwarfed everything before him. Jaebeom felt the years physically dropping from his shoulders as he stood beside this legend of the entertainment industry. Park Joon gave Jaebeom a once over from behind the dark frames of his glasses, face impassive.

  
"Hello, I'm Park Joon." The older man thrust his hand at Jaebeom.

  
"Hello sir, I'm Jinyoung's...friend, Jaebeom." Jaebeom said trying and failing to smile. His eyes flit from Joon's hand to his face, not sure if he should return the older man's very western greeting or bow, finally settling for a clumsy combination of both. Park Joon's hand engulfed Jaebeom's in a vice-like grip and Jaebeom was forced to flex his hand hard just to prevent it from being crushed.

If Jaebeom did anything wrong, the veteran idol didn't say. Instead, he nodded and turned to regard Jinyoung.

  
"You need to call me when you pull stunts like this." He grumbled. His tone shifted when he talked to Jinyoung, less stone effigy and more like the gruff exasperated voice Jaebeom associated with his father. "I thought you said you were going to stay behind and practice with that trainee who always follows you around. "Imagine what I was thinking when they all said they hadn't seen you yet today."

  
"Sorry hyung," Jinyoung said. The smile on his lips was dry but steadier now, its corners unmoving but also not as tense as they'd been earlier. "I went out to get something and ran into my hyung from university. Jaebeom-hyung is from the visual arts department. I park my bike over there a lot. Jaebeom-hyung, this is Joon-Hyung from GOD. He's my part-time manager."

  
Jaebeom didn't realize he was holding his breath until he let it out.

  
It's one thing to adore an actor, but it's another to watch them in action. A chill that was half shock half thrill ran up his spine. Jinyoung slipped into his pretense so smoothly Jaebeom couldn't quite pinpoint when it'd happened. Nothing changed about his face. His slightly sheepish smile was still in place. His shoulders were drawn in to accept his manager's scolding. But on his lips, he threaded half-truths together, arranged them artfully and hid the seams until the holes in his story became integral to it, a logistic lace he could pass for fabric.

  
"So, if you could take us both home?" Jinyoung said with an innocent flutter of his long eyelashes.

"You really don't have to Joon-ssi," Jaebeom said quickly, "I'm sure you're very busy..."

  
Jinyoung shot him down before he finished speaking. "Jaebeom-hyung, you're soaked to the bone and it's not getting any better. You'll die out there if you try to run for the train now. Besides, I owe you a ride anyways, don't I? Joon-hyung, Jaebeom-hyung was the one who kindly put up with Jackson and I after that party in September. The one where I was about to bus home?"

  
"Really?" Joon turned to Jaebeom with one sharp eyebrow raised. Under the stony gaze, he nodded weakly.

  
"Very well then," Park Joon said, punctuating with a nod, "we'll be glad to see you home safely Jaebeom-ssi."

That was how Jaebeom found himself sitting on a towel in the leather upholstered back of the most expensive car he'd ever seen in real life, trying not to drip outside of his designated area. Beside him, Jinyoung lounged across both the middle and back seats. Despite being much drier than Jaebeom, he too sat on a towel although he made minimal effort to stay on it.

"So hyung, what were you just saying about The Catcher in the Rye?"

"Well, that is..." Jaebeom cursed inside his head. He'd made the comparison without thinking much about it, taking the meaning of Jinyoung's words instead of considering them in context. "If - completely hypothetically - if a person succeeded everything they wanted to do, but they aren't any more satisfied that they were, perhaps they were going after the wrong thing in the first place. Catcher is about growing up, sure, and Holden does in his own way, but it's growing up through loss, you know? Through multiple failed ventures. It's the failures that narrow down where a person should focus so that they can eventually get where they need to be."

  
Jinyoung hummed softly and looked down at this hands. His long fine fingers laced delicately together in his lap.

Delicate was not a word Jaebeom would have associated with Junior before. He was graceful, or lithe, or slender, or elegant but there was a robustness to Junior, an edge to his self assured cheer that seemed inexhaustible as long as the camera was rolling, as supple as he was strong. Delicate seemed far too fragile a word for him.

Jinyoung was different. Jaebeom isn't sure when he began to think of Jinyoung and Junior as two different entities. Maybe being explicitly allowed to use the idol's personal name did something to Jaebeom's perception of him.

Jinyoung was all that Junior was. Their brief encounters had made that clear. He adjusted quickly, put himself on friendly terms with people in minutes. He could say three words and still talk circle after infuriating circle around Jaebeom. But Jinyoung was delicate. Up close, Jaebeom could see the faint shadows of blue veins on his wrists and the paleness of his face where the dampness must have broken through his make-up. His cute eye smiles were accompanied by faint bruising from lack of sleep. His movements were subtle some of them escaped all but the most watchful eyes, a far cry from the wide expressive gestures he used on screen.

It made Jaebeom speak a little softer, move a little slower.

"Suppose that is so," Jinyoung said after a while, "but surely there's a limit to that. A person can hardly go their entire life failing forever. Holden himself never succeeded, and most don't have the luxury to fail the way he does."

"He didn't," Jaebeom said, "but staying at school wouldn't have done him any good either. It was already a sinking ship."

"Hm...that's fair enough." Jinyoung stopped when the car did. He looked out the window and blinked. "Oh, this is my stop."

Jaebeom balked, suddenly having so much left to say. It was a little ridiculous. He'd read Catcher so many times, both in Korean and the original English, and discussed the little book to death with teachers, classmates, and faceless people on forums online. He didn't have anything new to say, and Jinyoung had only been poking holes in his stance up til now, barely contributing to their discussion. And yet, as Jinyoung gathered his few things and opened the car door, the air between them felt unclear...incomplete. Jinyoung turned around again and their eyes met.

For a second everything went quiet. Jaebeom could hear neither the rain outside nor his own breathing. All the sound in the world came to a full stop.

Jinyoung's mouth turned up in the corners. It was nothing big, just a slight pull that softened the set of his lips.

"Hyung," Jinyoung said, "Would you like to come in and finish our little book talk?"

  
The world came flooding back all at once, washing into every corner of Jaebeom's head until he felt dizzy. It took a moment for Jaebeom to understand what he'd been asked, the words coming in but not quite gelling together in his head.

"Jinyoung-ah," Park Joon's voice cut across them, "I'm sure Jaebeom-ssi wants to get home and out of those wet clothes. Don't be troublesome."

When Jinyoung turned his head away his cheeks are puffed out in a pout that made Jaebeom's chest physically ache.

"Hyuuung," Jinyoung dragged his middle syllable into a needling whine, "don't be like that. Jaebeom-hyung, you don't think I'm trouble, do you?

All of a sudden, Jaebeom was thrown into a talking game where he knew none of the rules, forced to read all his information in the fine movements of Jinyoung's head and mouth. The turn of the atmosphere jerked him every which way and left Jaebeom scrabbling for some kind of balance. Finding none, he chose a side.

"No..." he said, "not at all. It was nice talking to you."

The softness in Jinyoung's mouth was gone when he turned back towards Jaebeom, replaced by something much lazier and more sharply feline, and _good god_ , what had Jaebeom just gotten himself into?

"Well then, Jaebeom-hyung. I can offer you a shower and something to wear. I'm sure I'll have something. You can give them back to myself or Jackson later on. We can talk more about that, _inside_."

  
Jaebeom kept one eye on the back of Park Joon's headrest as he nodded, but the older man didn't say much beyond a curt good-bye and telling them to take care. Jinyoung slipped his hand into Jaebeom again, his touch as searing against Jaebeom's cold skin as it was last time. He didn't bother with the umbrella, instead dragging Jaebeom through the rain at breakneck speed. After second maybe to unlock the door, they spilled over into Jinyoung's ground floor apartment and Jinyoung slammed the door behind them.

  
"What's the rush?" Jaebeom gasped. He felt like he'd accidentally left his breath behind by the car, his heart and lungs burning from the lack of it.

  
Jinyoung chuckled softly as he tented his fingers over his chest. It was just then that Jaebeom noticed that he'd taken off the old Bounce era sweater. Beneath it, all Jinyoung wore was a white long sleeve T-shirt.

The material didn't look particularly thin, but wet, it stuck to him like a second skin, molding against the plains of his chest. Even beneath the dark ink of the infographic, he could see the blush of Jinyoung's skin tone and the faint circle of dusky - he was not thinking about this right now. He was 100% not thinking about this.

Jaebeom blinked when he realized Jinyoung was speaking.

"Hyung, you recognized Joon-hyung, right?" Jinyoung said slowly, "weeeell he's always a little antsy around new people. You know, being a former star and all, he's had his share of...fan problems."

_Oh._

"So it'd be great if we could keet that little bit quiet," Jinyoung said with a wry smile. Jaebeom felt himself nodding before he decided to. "Please don't think about it too much. I'm sure you're alright. Come on, you can put your stuff in the kitchen and I'll show you to the shower."

  
Still a little dazed, Jaebeom toed off his sneakers at the tiny foyer and followed Jinyoung inside. The floor was your typical laminated board surrounded by dull walls that probably used to be white before old man time rubbed the dust permanently into them. The bathroom was a normal bathroom with a shower head that hung over a little plastic tub and stool. Two rows of bottles lined a plastic holder beside the shower

"Feel free to use anything you'd like, except the tiny bottles on the left end. Those are make-up cleansers," Jinyoung said, chuckling softly, "You probably won't need those. I'll see if I can dig some things that'll fit. The hot water's connected to the thermostat so you won't have to wait long."

With that, he disappeared leaving Jaebeom still blinking around.

  
Eventually, though, he went over and flicked the hot water switch just under the shower head and began to peel his clothes off his body. His hoodie was so water logged that it flopped to the floor with a wet smack. The old T shirt he had under it stuck to his skin and stretched like rubber when he tried to wrestle it off. Hopefully, it went back to normal after a good laundry cycle. His jeans were the only piece of clothing that let go easily, and he thanked the gods for inventing denim. It wasn't til the clothes were off his body that it struck Jaebeom just how cold he actually was, and he rubbed furiously at his arms to try and get some feeling back in them. He piled them off to the side and switched the showerhead on as soon as the water heater beeped.

  
The water scalded when it first came out, sending pin and needles scattering wherever it struck, making Jaebeom hiss. But, he was glad for the heat as it dug into his back muscles and slowly forced them to relax. In minutes the water filled the little bathroom with steam and rid the cold air of its teeth. Eventually the stinging ebbed too and Jaebeom could let himself slump over under the now pleasantly warm spray.  
Without the temperature nibbling at him, Jaebeom had the presence of mind to take in the faded pink bathroom tiles, a color that was both as odd as it was comforting. Unlike the living room walls, these were extremely clean, as if someone took the time every month or so to bleach the lime and gray matter out of them. Probably Jackson. The excitable fencer often wore a thick cloth mask inside the school's dark room to guard against the negligible fumes of their chemical agents. One can only imagine what he's read about molds and bathroom pathogens. The little tub, stool, and other little plastic extras were various different shades of pink, probably chosen in an unsuccessful effort to keep with the general color scheme. It was cute to think of Jinyoung chewing on his bottom lip, trying to color code his bathroom.

  
Turning his attentions to the bottles, Jaebeom ignored the cleansers as instructed, and reached for a medium sized white bottle of shampoo. As soon as he popped the lid, the sweet scent of white jasmine wafted from the bottle and filled his nose, a more concentrated version of the smell Jaebeom still remembered on his pillow. It smacked him in the gullet and pounded at his heart. Heat is forced from into his cheeks that had nothing to do with the shower. Slowly trickled down inside his chest and dripped into his stomach, going lower and lower until he felt over full and but wanting more at the same time. Jaebeom groaned.

  
Gods, what was _this_? He wasn't 16 anymore. He shouldn't be fantasizing about Jinyoung under the shower, massaging the scent of white jasmine and tea - he's only now getting the faint bitter notes of green tea laced elegantly through the flower smell - into his thick dark hair with long elegant fingers. He shouldn't be thinking of Jinyoung combing carefully through the strands to make sure every hair is clean, or stroking the similarly scented conditioner into it afterwards. Jinyoung's body wash is peach and honey scented and that what the sweetness must have been. Considering his industry reputation and fondly repeated nickname, it's a little ironic. Except no, because it only makes Jaebeom think about other parts of Jinyoung's body that he should not be thinking about while sitting in Jinyoung's bathroom!

Jaebeom's laugh as he put the bottle back had a tiny edge of hysteria to it.

He still used a little bit of everything aside from the cleansers, using the tiniest amount reccomended on the bottle's various instructions.

"Hyung?" Jinyoung's voice floated in through the steam while Jaebeom was halfway through the wait time for the bamboo face and body mask to soak in. He jumped, nearly banging his head on the shower faucet. "I've got you some clothes and a towel. I think they'll fit fine, but if not, tell me and we'll get you something else."

"Thank you!" Jaebeom squeaked from between his fingers. Hearing Jinyoung's voice made him all the worse, the shame sinking into his body faster than whatever antioxidants he was supposed to get from the skin care.

"Do you need anything else?"

Yes, he did. He needed to calm the fuck down and drag his mind back to sanity by force.

"N-no." He said.

"Alright then, enjoy your bath hyung."

Forget _Mark_ , Jaebeom can't believe _himself_.

  
After that Jaebeom finished up as quick as humanly possible. Now that he'd had a taste, he couldn't trust himself not to stay in the tub and soak himself the smell of Jinyoung's bath products forever. Besides he should probably leave some hot water for the actual owner of the apartment. With a sigh, Jaebeom padded towards the door.

Jinyoung had hung everything on a convenient hook just outside the bathroom. It was nothing wild, a loose long sleeved grey shirt and a pair of acid washed jeans. Jaebeom grabbed them quickly and retreated back in the bathroom.

He wasn't sure if he was surprised. Junior was always associated with bright or intense looks, glowing neons over stark black or white. After meeting Jinyoung, he knew the sophisticated young idol wouldn't dress that way all the time, but he's not had much reference for Jinyoung's non-idol clothes. It was odd, in a nice way to see clothes so normal in front of him.

At least until he saw a pair of peach pink boxers neatly folded into the shirt.

He could see the foxy grin spread over Jinyoung's face as he picked these out. Jaebeom groaned. If he hadn't just had his episode in the shower, he'd have laughed at these too, having been on the end of far too many of BamBam's childish pranks. Really, this was extremely tame, a good laugh and fandom reference all in one. This was far from the first time Jinyoung had teased his fans.  
As it was, Jaebeom's perverted gutter mind ruined it for him as soon as he saw the cheap pink fabric. He groaned, staggering against a damp wall.

As if to rub salt in the wound, the jeans didn't fit, the denim, while accomodating - maybe even loose - for Jinyoung's lovely toned legs, bit into Jaebeoms, pinching any tiny bit of flab in their seams and becoming torture devices that took a good minute to two to finally wrestle off.

He would have to go ask Jinyoung for something else.

-0-

Everyone in the industry praised Jinyoung for being methodical, reliable. Once he reached the result he wanted, he could reproduce it a hundred times without a single misstep. A thinker, a planner, first and foremost.

So it really would be nice if he actually stopped doing things out of the blue like this.

He looked over his shoulder back at Jaebeom. The older boy's eyes were open and vulnerable, his mouth parted like he was about to speak. The ends of his hair were starting to curl as they dried and he looked for all the world like a big wet puppy begging for table scraps.

Jinyoung can't resist puppies.

"Hyung," he said, "would you like to come in and finish our little book talk?"

This in itself was ridiculous. Jinyoung knew Catcher in the Rye. He aced both the exams associated with it and chose it for his end of term paper not but a year ago. He aced that too. He's more than exhausted the themes of lost innocence and warped expectations arguing about them back and forth in no less than three different discussion groups and once against his class TA. Even if he hadn't, he wouldn't seek an in-depth discussion with a fanboy from somewhere that he hardly knew or saw on a regular basis. Im Jaebeom didn't even know the other side of the story, and shouldn't be made to put up with Jinyoung's irritated grumpy ass until he blew up and did something stupid.

And yet, as Jaebeom blinked at him in that slow clueless way baby animals often did, the air between them felt unclear...incomplete. Jaebeom's cheeks were pink again, highlighting the sharpness of his bone structure, and Jinyoung shoved his hands in his jeans pockets to stop himself from reaching out and pinching them. No grown man should be allowed to be this adorable. 

"Jinyoung-ah." Joon's voice sliced down between them. Jinyoung glared at the back of his head rest in a huff. "I'm sure Jaebeom-ssi wants to get home and out of those wet clothes. Don't be troublesome."

"Hyuuung," and this was a little more familiar, this back and forth with Joon. Jinyoung was used to wheedling his hyung to let him have his way. Joon was used to dealing with little brats - so he said - and Jinyoung liked to push and prod at people he's particularly fond of. Jinyoung was one of the few who could pick up on the good-natured grumbles and sighs whenever Joon felt like joking around. They made a good pair.

But that made today's particular dance a careful one.

On some level, Joon still saw Jinyoung as a babysitting case, the dongsaeng of a dongsaeng. The line between manager and caretaker had always been grey. So much of an idol's life was taken over by their career that a manager, even a part-time one, might be the person and idol saw most, who they sat with through dazed laughter or hysterical crying, who hauled their asses off to rest when they inevitably collapsed. With Joon, that line blurred into a soft gradient. Joon wasn't only a sometimes manager to the idols he took on, he was their sunbae navigating them through their journey with a steady but flexible hand. They didn't just rely on him, they learned. In turn, Joon took their tutelage personally and encroachment on them by anybody short of JYP himself was, in his eyes, indefensible.

  
And then, there was that tiny problem he had against over-enthusiastic fans. He wasn't wrong, part of idol life is maintaining that delicate balance between maintaining the fantasy while avoiding the stalkers, the emails, the overbearing results of those company induced fantasies. In many ways idol work was an implicit agreement between all three parties, a fine, healthy relationship until someone overstepped. More often than not, it was the fans, something Joon had only too much experience with.

  
Jaebeom, with his cute puppy cheeks and little photo card collection, would trip more red flags in Joon's eyes than a crossing guard parade.

For the moment, his growl was exaggerated, more exasperated than angry. He probably thought Jinyoung was doing this to get on his nerves - which was true, but not important - and all Jinyoung had to do, was not fuck up.

So Jinyoung rounded and dragged out his vowels, put a little more breath into it and really pulled the whine into his voice. When Joon didn't respond, he turned back to Jaebeom and wheedled at him too, threw Jaebeom up as a shield as if he were Jackson or Hoseok. When it looked like he couldn't get any redder, Jinyoung stretched his face into his best pout.

  
There was an art to pouting. Especially considering Jinyoung's face, he had to be careful. If he stuck his lips out too far or didn't tuck in his top lip right, he looked like an offended duck, comical rather than adorable. If he didn't keep his brow relaxed, it creased and brought attention away from his face. But, if he did everything right and the planets aligned and the Sun moved in Capricorn on the third day, Jinyoung could strike someone speechless.

  
"No..." Jaebeom said, "not at all. It was nice talking to you."

  
When Jaebeom sputtered and stumbled over his own tongue, Jinyoung knew he had been effective. All that's left was to get away with victory.

"Well then, Jaebeom-hyung." Jinyoung said lazy satisfaction purring his chest. "I can offer you a shower and something to wear. I'm sure I'll have something. You can give them back to myself or Jackson later on. We can talk more about that, inside."

"FIne, if Jaebeom-ssi doesn't mind then. Take care that you both don't get sick." Joon said, not bothering to hide the sulking in his voice. "I'll see you tomorrow, on time Jinyoung-ah."

"Yes, hyung. Bye Hyung." Jinyoung said waving his fingers at the back of Joon's headrest. "Say hi to the girls for me."

After making sure Jaebeom had gotten his stuff sorted out, Jinyoung wrapped his hands around Jaebeom's and tugged him out into the rain. Jaebeom's hand wasn't icy anymore, but nice and cool to the touch. In contrast, the rain shocked Jinyoung and made him hiss. They made a mad dash for the apartment. As they ran, broken drops bounced off the concrete like glitter. Jinyoung had to laugh, letting the sound be swallowed up by the storm and city noises as he ran faster.

It occurred to him at the door that maybe he shouldn't have invited someone over when he knew his apartment was in less than tip-top shape. Normally, Jinyoung didn't fuss much about neatness, as much as that it was all reasonably clean. According to Jackson, that made him a slob. According to Jinyoung, he had ten thousand better things to do than organize his snapback collection in order by color and size or whatever Jackson did. But even he grimaced at the stray socks he left by the door yesterday. Quickly, he snatched them up and wadded them in a ball with his own currently soaked socks and sweater and tossed them into the laundry basket in the tiny kitchen seven steps away. While there he punched the thermostat on and filled the apartment with the low whirring sound of their decades-old heater.

  
With a deep breath, he padded back to where Jaebeom was still wringing out his hair.

  
"Well, home sweet home," he said tapping his fingers nervously together in front of him. "Um, hyung, you recognized Joon-hyung just now, right? Well, about that..."

In the best case scenario, Jaebeom would stay away from Joon in general. But it was strange that Jinyoung was running into Jaebeom everywhere like this. Despite Jackson being friends with half the university campus, Jinyoung's volatile and ever-changing schedule had always kept him from meeting them. As far as he knew Jackson could have ghost friends...ghost friends and Im Jaebeom. If they're going to keep running into each other, then it was best that they had their story established. Jinyoung didn't need a Suzy's KakaoTalk Stalker Incident on his record.

  
Jaebeom blinked again, slow and puppy-like, as his erratic breathing began to abate. He nodded though, and that was all Jinyoung needed.

  
"Please don't think about it too much. I'm sure it won't come up." Jinyoung said folding his hands together in front of him. "Come on, you can put your stuff in the kitchen and I'll show you to the shower."  
After depositing Jaebeom's bag on the counter and his poncho in the kitchen sink, Jinyoung led his trailing hyung to be back of the apartment where their tiny bathroom was. Walking through his home with Jaebeom behind him felt new and different. Jinyoung was suddenly hyper-aware of the old threadbare carpet and the odd stains on the walls even though they'd been there long before he'd moved in. It's not bad per se, not for a haphazard actor with college inclinations, but the air crawled uneasily across his skin like so many little ants.

  
He dropped Jaebeom quickly in the bathroom and rushed back through the apartment, snatching up fallen books and forgotten chip bags. grabbing a wet wipe from the dispenser in the kitchen and quickly running it over every flat smooth surface her could feasibly reach until it all smelled vaguely antiseptic. Once done, Jinyoung went into his room to tug off his wet T-shirt, now unpleasantly tacky against his skin. Wrapping himself in a dry fluffy towel, Jinyoung flopped down on his bed and stared at the cheap, crumbling stucco on his ceiling without really seeing it.

  
What was he doing? Actually, scratch that, everything Jinyoung had done all day was dumb. He didn't know Im Jaebeom at all. Forget Joon, why was Jinyoung so open with a guy he's talked to barely twice? Jinyoung wasn't connected to BTS beyond Hoseok. Aside from that, all he knew was that Jaebeom went to their university and probably lent Jackson's dramatic ass a pen or something once. And yeah maybe Jinyoung liked the idea of a cute boy who couldn't look away from him just for existing in the same space, maybe he even liked knowing there was at least one JJ fan who'd been in it for Jinyoung specifically. But he'd still essentially dragged Jaebeom home like every overeager kindergartener with their first stray dog.

  
Then again, that was twice now that Jaebeom's unwittingly helped him out.

  
Jinyoung could turn around and pin it on whatever he wanted, but the fact of the matter was that he felt better after interacting with Jaebeom. The photographer had something that made Jinyoung think when he was too numb to think and laugh when he was too tired to laugh. Jaebeom's gaze hit him like a physical touch, but it was a tender and unassuming one, one that made Jinyoung feel attended to rather than scrutinized.

It's not that Jinyoung's doing something as pedantic as paying him back. It's not.

...But as the fansites have been clamoring for a proper look inside his apartment for years now. Jaebeom might not be that type, especially if he didn't approach Jinyoung until that party, but he might still appreciate the gesture.

The problem now though, was finding sufficient attire for his impromptu guest.

  
With a deep breath, Jinyoung picked himself off the mattress and trudged his way toward the closet. Jaebeom looked to be about his height, maybe give or take a couple centimeters. That was one worry out of the way. That left the main concern to be his broad Pacific Ocean shoulders. Jinyoung would have to pick through his largest tops, the oversized hanging-off-his-frame boyfriend shirts of soft cotton, shoved at him when the commercials really needed that cute puppy crush angle. Better to err on the side of too large than too small. The more pressing problem was pants.

  
Most of Jinyoungs presentable bottoms came from the set and were tailored specifically. His stylists, company or otherwise, knew Jinyoung's assets well and good jeans were expensive. He saw no real reason to go out and buy his own when every set team he's ever had was more than happy to let him filch his share of pretty set clothes. The unfortunate result of this, however, was that Jinyoung's jeans pretty much only fit Jinyoung, and occasionally Yugyeom's skinny legs if he had a good sturdy belt to wear. That alone still wouldn't be such a problem if Jinyoung just remembered to go shopping once in a blue moon before he wore his normal clothes to shreds. This rarely happened.

  
Hoping for the best, he picked out his loosest pair of jeans, an acid-washed number that had some decent stretch in the waist and hips. If they still didn't work, he could still loot through Jackson's stuff.

Comparatively the underwear situation was stupidly easy. Weirdly enough it was Yugyeom who came to his rescue. The idiot trainee had long since learned that he could get away with giving his generous and sacrificing hyung stupid joke gifts he bought at the closest thousand won shop for birthdays and Christmas. His crowning glory for the last two years was a pair of cheap, one-size-fits-all boxers that had a bright pink gradient effect directly on the ass meant to imitate the look of a ripe peach. Upon getting it, Jinyoung had promptly murdered his adorable dongsaeng and then laughed his own peach right off. He proceeded to toss it into a much-honored back corner of his underwear drawer that he never touched. As a result, they were basically still new.

  
If Jaebeom was a real Junior fan, he'll laugh just as hard.

  
With a satisfied smile, Jinyoung went to hang them on the hook that Jackson had nailed to the wall outside their bathroom.

  
Jaebeom was taking his sweet long time to bathe, even for Jinyoung standards. Maybe he was the lazy type who liked to steam himself until his skin turned pink. Or maybe he was the meticulous type that washed every individual hair and centimeter of skin. He did seem pretty finicky, but for some reason, it was cute on him.

  
After checking in with the older boy, Jinyoung then headed to the kitchen to make Jaebeom a mug of hot tea to chase away any cold left in his bones. He was waiting by the electric kettle when Jaebeom came out of the shower with the jeans slung over one arm and the pink peach boxers that were apparently shorter than Jinyoung had thought they were. Then ended about 4 inches too high on his long, toned legs. The stretchy material cupped his ass just off of the actual peach design, and despite their surprisingly good fit, the boxers looked more like dirty booty shorts than anything else.

  
Jinyoung doubled over hand pressed hard to his mouth. He couldn't help it. He laughed long and loud until he barely had any air left to push into his vocal chords and his lungs burned with lack of oxygen.

  
"Jinyoung-ah!" Jaebeom hissed as Jinyoung's laughter dialed down. His face flushed as bright as Jinyoung's stupid peach boxers.

  
"I'm sorry." Jinyoung gasped. He was so close to crying. "I'm so sorry, hyung. Did the pants not fit properly?"

  
Jaebeom's mouth crinkled like it was trying not to pout, and Jinyoung had to grit his teeth to keep himself from going off again.

"Yeah I tried, but the legs..." Jaebeom trailed off into mumbles again as he resolutely kept his eyes fixed to his hands.

  
"No, no, it's my fault," Jinyoung said. "Come on, I'll dig through Jackson's things and see if we can't find something better.

  
Having pretty much marshalled the cooking, Jackson often dumped the laundry duties on Jinyoung, who had a sharper eye for stray colors getting into their whites and regular access to Joon's car. On occasion, Hoseok and the maknaes snuck a hoodie or some socks in there. They all had so much workout stuff too. Jinyoung was convinced the old lady who ran the laundromat knew him by the smell alone. The upside of this was that, before Jinyoung had them all sorted - and occasionally even after he's had them all sorted - all of their clean laundry tend to stay in the same general corner of the living room in its huge net bag. It was relatively simple to excavate some loose sweats that would fit Jaebeom. Even if they were a little short in the leg.

  
"Thank you," Jaebeom said as she shuffled off towards the bathroom.

  
"If you were worried hyung, don't be." Jinyoung said with an obvious, almost greasy wink. "It wasn't a bad view at all."

  
Jaebeom looked at like Jinyoung like Jinyoung had just pulled a chainsaw and hockey mask on him. Never had there been another face so twisted in horror. Jinyoung dissolved back into loud guffaws, the kind her shouldn't, couldn't, wouldn't show on camera. Jaebeom left virtual dust clouds as he fled back to the bathroom.

  
Jinyoung collapsed back on the kitchen counter, the odd giggle still trickling out of him like the last squeaky puffs of air from a deflating balloon. His chest and stomach felt tender, distended like they'd been stretched until they lost their original shape.

  
It was nice.

  
By the time Jaebeom ventured back out, the red of his face calmed to a more natural color, Jinyoung had somehow pulled himself together long enough to finish making tea. After settling Jaebeom down on the living room couch with a fluffy throw blanket and the TV remote, Jinyoung hopped into his own shower.

  
Jinyoung wasn't the type that liked long showers, even less so after his life became a continual state of needing to rush somewhere or other. However, the sheer amount of products he had to use to keep his skin blemish free and marketable dragged the process out into something of a daily event. Even after he'd cleansed, conditioned, moisturized and steamed it all into his pores he still had to shave.

  
It wasn't something he'd thought about when he'd first shown up sparkly-eyed and hopeful at the JYPE auditions, but he wished somebody had given him some kind of forewarning. Thanks to his mother's side, Jinyoung's hair grew in dark and thick. It was wonderful for his scalp, not so much for his face. Jinyoung found himself having to shave sometimes three times a day to ward off the decidedly un-idol like stubble. On especially long filming jobs, his make-up had to be caked on thickly or else touched up between every few takes to hide the gray shadow that grew darker and darker the longer it was left to its own devices. Shaving on the other hand, no matter how slow or careful his razor, Jinyoung never managed to avoid red patches, especially on his upper lip and chin. This was fine if he was going to spend the rest of the day rooted in his bed, but not when he had Im Jaebeom in the living room waiting on a one-time book club meeting.

  
Jaebeom just had that effect. An eye that was simultaneously close and yet distant.

  
Sighing softly Jinyoung pulled out his cream color correctors and daubed them on the red areas, followed by a thin layer of BB cream that he buffed out with a dense brush until everything looked nice and natural.

With makeup on, he looked a little better, more composed, more like himself again.

  
Clicking off the water heater Jinyoung wrapped a towel himself for warmth before he opened the door to pluck his clothes off the hook.

  
In this too he'd forgone his comfortable lounge clothes, pajama pants he'd bought back in his teen years and T-shirts with ragged hems where he'd twisted and worried the fabric watching his own performances. Instead, he'd chosen an outfit that he might have worn to the studio, especially if he signed up for a time block where he'd have to share. His ribbed sleeveless shirt was relatively new, it's black dye still so intense his skin glowed next to it. Dancing leggings, as new black as the shirt, turned his body from a human figure to a silhouette, and shadow that outlined his form. A large hoodie with a faux artsy diagonal zipper covered him down to his thighs and, when partially zipped up, created an arrangement of long triangles that directed the eyes to accentuate the natural taper of his waist. The effect was made even more intense by it's light beige color on top of the black.

  
It wasn't uncomfortable. It wasn't going out of his way, exactly.

  
Jinyoung stared hard at his reflection in the mirror. After a few minutes, he nodded at himself, satisfied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably going to be a little rougher than usual, I didn't have much edit time in between the beta and editing process so there have been any major improvements made, and trust me my first draft was complete trash lol
> 
> anyways sorry for the wait


	8. The Fox Den

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That time when JJP realized they were both old cranky book nerds who spent way too much time thinking about fictional people

Jaebeom tried not to be too eager as he glanced around the room over the rip of his tea mug. There hadn’t been a single camera of any kind in this apartment, not if you didn’t count Jinyoung’s one teasing selfie in front of a single window when he first moved in. In fact, Jinyoung’s been extremely close-lipped about his living space since MTV toured the JJ dorms in their old reality show. Nothing about rooming with the Lucky7 members during training. Nothing about moving out of the trainee dorms when he decided to attend school full time.

Now that he wasn’t numb and...distracted...Jaebeom could finally have a proper look around.

Strictly speaking, Jinyoung’s apartment wasn’t radically different from your typical low-rent college kid apartment, especially not in this neighborhood. He didn’t even have much furniture, and most of it looked well worn. But as his eyes roved over what they could from his place on the couch. Jaebeom kept picking up new traces of information that made him giddy.

Much like the bathroom, the living room too seemed to have undergone some weird attempt at color coordinating. The thin rug on the floor looked like it might have been dark blue once upon a time, maybe even a remnant from a previous owner, and everything else just kind of flew with that. The low gray couch had a variety of misshapen blue cushions of all different shades. One particularly squashy one - whose filling had probably pilled into disfiguring lumps from years of abuse - was closer to a deep greenish teal than a blue. The single porcelain vase on top of the TV was painted to look like a Squirtle. The convenience store brand house slippers piled up on each other by the foyer (and now on Jaebeom’s feet) were a soft baby blue that reminded Jaebeom of his mom’s old ones from when he was younger. Only the coffee table and the bookcase in the corner seemed to be made entirely of polished wood, stained dark.

They both made it up in their own ways, however. The coffee table was a clever shadow box table with a glass “aquarium” top. In the hollow space sat a wealth of little toys, handmade dolls, and acrylic keychains laid chaotically over a blue painted base. Over half of them were little “JR” ducklings that Jinyoung had playfully scolded his fans for sending countless times but accepted nonetheless. Their blunt little beaks piqued up at him from between their chubby little cheeks as Jaebeom bent over for a closer look. The bookcase was another marvel. The boxy shelves sat upon a large square cavity taken over by plush toys stuff into transparent plastic trash bags to protect them from the dust.

Putting his mug down, Jaebeom got up and picked his way over to look over them.

These were even more prolific than the dolls, and came in all shapes and sizes, with all types of funny and cute expressions. Poking around the third bag he looked at, Jaebeom came face to face with a Siamese cat plushie he’d sent as part of a fandom-wide letter drive someone had organized almost three years ago for Christmas. The pale cream of its fur was no longer pristine with bits of fluff from all the other animals that had rubbed up against it and the little felt fish in its mouth was squashed out of shape, but overall it was none the worse for wear.

Every celebrity said they kept all their gifts. It was part of the business, and Jaebeom accepted that. But it did make it nearly impossible to tell which ones actually did and which ones were just paying lip service before they threw them out or donated them. Gift-giving was strictly something fans did for their own happiness. Jaebeom knew he shouldn't be like this, but a warm fizziness bubbled up from his chest.

Jaebeom poked at the little cat's pink ears and nose a couple more time before replacing the bag.

Jaebeom let his eyes wander to the actual books on display. On the level immediately above the stuffed animals sat a selection of cooking and workout books with Jackson's name written all over them. They were pressed to the side by a dark blue bookholder with a little plastic husky fixed against it like it was pushing the books into order.

The rest was organized something like the five thousand won bin everytime their university had a clear out sale to get rid of the year's old inventory. It was mostly translations of western books, and well...fair. Jinyoung was a literature major. Jaebeom tended to gravitate towards those too, and the university always made famous world literature easily available. But he also had a surprising amount of old folk tales and children's books and full sets of old Chinese epics, all in a jumble. The more Jaebeom browsed through titles, however, the more lost he became.

Jaebeom had always had a knack for reading. Not for studying, that was different. Memorization and recitation confounded him. and in his grade school marks could attest to that. Reading, though, feeling, understanding, reconfiguring things in his head. That, he was good at. That was what allowed him to just barely scrape by the entrance exams and flourish in the university environment. Jaebeom could read.

And until Jinyoung, Jaebeom had also never met anyone he couldn't get to know by taking a look at their bookcase.

There didn't seem to be any reason or pattern to the books that made it into Jinyoung's bookcase, no genre or even concept he clearly favored. Any concentration of stuff either falling in line with what might have been a course book list, or seeming completely incidental, again like books from the university bargain bin. Even browsing through his manga Jaebeom couldn't find any particular inclinations except that Jinyoung tended to stay away from long, year-spanning series, but that wasn't a tell. It could be that he just didn't have the space to buy them. Jaebeom was much the same. Jinyoung was definitely a prolific reader, but his collection was truly all over the place.

"Hyung?"

Jaebeom jumped as Jinyoung appeared in his blind spot, skin dewy from his own shower and flavoring the air with white jasmine. He was in a long but slim beige hoodie with an odd zipper that hugged his silhouette. He looked graceful but soft and Jaebeom could picture wrapping his fingers around that tiny little waist cradling it as they danced together, or carrying him folded like a letter in his arms.

Jaebeom swallowed the lump in his throat, quickly dropping his hands from the last book he'd looked at.

"Jinyoung-ah, you're out," Jaebeom said, nearly biting through his lip.

"I suppose you really weren't kidding when you said you were interested in my book list," Jinyoung said. Jaebeom's eyes followed the arc of his fingers as he tucked a flyaway hair behind his ear.

Jinyoung smiled at him. The feline quality to his face had returned, elegant but effortless, and Jaebeom was left with not Jinyoung but teasing, confident Junior. After this afternoon, however, Jaebeom could see the seams of that face more than ever, so cleverly sewn together unless someone knew just what to look for, the shallowness of his eye wrinkles or the lines that failed to appear around his mouth.

He wasn't disappointed exactly. He's glad laughing at him had given Jinyoung back his idol face.

"Interview with a Vampire, huh?" Jinyoung's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "I didn't picture you as the type."

Fuck. Who knew his supernatural romance addiction would betray him like this?

"It's not a bad book," Jaebeom said quickly looking away, hoping that he only imagined the heat on his face.

"It's not," Jinyoung said, but his voice was too steady, too easy, "It's a little indulgent, irritating depending on the day, but not bad."

"What, you didn't like it?" Jaebeom said lightly, trying to pull the mood up with a joking tone.

"I don't like a lot of things, hyung," Jinyoung said with a shrug.

Silence floated down on them, took up all the space, so any little filler words that Jaebeom might have said were smothered out. For a while, they stood there. Jinyoung made no move to either carry on to another conversation or leave. He seemed to exist in a pristine space of his own as he looked idly over the bookcase. Once in a while, the corner of his eye would turn towards Jaebeom. Sometimes their gazes met and Jaebeom got the feeling that Jinyoung was waiting for something.

But Jaebeom wasn't good with people. He could handle words, sounds, images, but when there was someone on the other side everything just dropped, and he was left incapable of stringing his thoughts together well enough to say them. On off days he wondered if maybe this is why his parents used to fight so much before the split because Jaebeom was exactly like the craggy old man who spoke in a language of animalistic grunts and violence-happy fists instead of human language, a lumbering drunk beast who was impossible for normal people to understand. Jaebeom might have found other languages to use, prettier more carefully crafted languages, but he was no better at people, at talking. He followed conversations, he did not start them.

Beside him, Jinyoung hummed softly, bars of a lullaby he didn't recognize.

"I got a lot of these books at the university actually," Jinyoung said at last, and his voice was like a tiny tear in the veil that allowed them to slip through and smooth out. "Sorry, they're a bit of a mess."

"No, it's.." Jaebeom fished around in his head with no hook. "...It's interesting."

"That bad, huh?" Jinyoung said with a derisive little chuckle.

"I, no that's not what I meant," Jaebeom said, mentally slamming his brakes. Somewhere inside Jaebeom knew it was just a harmless joke, the kind of teasing humor Junior was famous for since the beginning. But for one reason or another, that part simply didn't want to communicate with the rest of his panicking head. "It's...it's a bookcase, if it's convenient for you then, well. It is what it is. I just mean..."

Jinyoung caught him again, physically this time, his tapered fingertips coming to a rest on the crook of Jaebeom's elbow.

"I just..." Jaebeom said lamely, "have a hard time pining your selection down, that's all. It makes me curious, Jinyoung-ah. What do you generally read?"

Jinyoung blinked at him, an innocent but blank flutter of lashes. "What do you mean hyung?"

"I mean, you didn't really like Interview with a Vampire, right? What about the original Dracula? Or are you maybe a Shelley fan? I saw Frankenstein up there." Jaebeom said quickly. He sounded dumb, and idiot just throwing out titles of famous books, and Jinyoung probably thought as much. "But you have bodice rippers, historical biographies, technical manuals..."

He had to know.

"I read a lot of things, hyung," Jinyoung said after a pause. "I think I'll read just about anything."

Jaebeom nodded for lack of any other response. Because in a way it was so, so sad. Jinyoung's mind, like his shelves, must be stuffed so full, so many years worth of words flowing in and spilling over. How could he not have found something to love in all that time?

"But..." Again, Jaebeom backtracked, and again his breath refused for exit his lungs. "I suppose I'll always hold a little something for the Great Gatsby."

"Gatsby?" Jaebeom said. "You don't look...the type."

"I've heard that," he said.

From the grin at the corner of Jinyoung's mouth, he was definitely laughing at Jaebeom. But gears began to creak to life inside Jaebeom's head, rearranging themselves around the new information.

"I thought it was just a school book. You didn't post much about it the in high school," he said to buy himself time, "and the last time you mentioned it was two years ago when you were laughing at your lit class."

Jaebeom remembered it clearly. Jinyoung famously never used emoji, if he typed anything on his photos at all. But when the little blue cover appeared on his Instagram feed, it had been accompanied by a tiny laughing devil face in the captions. Jaebeom had to double check to see if the account name was right.

"No one ever said you couldn't like school books, right?" Jinyoung said. He reached up to the top shelf with elegant fingertips and fished out a familiar thin blue book. "But you're right, they wouldn't make us read this version in school."

The gold embossed title on the front was in English letters, swooping up and down in smooth script. Jaebeom didn't even have to ask before Jinyoung was holding it out to him.

-0-

By the time Jinyoung returned, Jaebeom's tea mug was finished and abandoned on the coffee table. The man himself was looking around his bookshelf, still wrapped in the fleece throw blanket. Jinyoung approached him slowly, feet making no sound on the carpet. Jaebeom was putting back a train station romance novel when Jinyoung sidled up to him.

"Hyung?" Jinyoung said.

Jaebeom turned quickly, his hands dropping away entirely from the mismatched spines of all Jinyoung's books.

"Oh, Jinyoung-ah," he said with on top of a gasp, eyes flitting between Jinyoung's face and the book he'd just put back. "You're out."

"I guess you weren't kidding when you said you were interested in my book list," Jinyoung said, smiling calmly even though all the wanted to do was poke Jaebeom's droopy guilty brows. Instead, he went over and trailed his fingertips along the spine of the book Jaebeom just put back.

Jinyoung would be the last person to admit it, but his bookcase was a mess. Jackson had about half a shelf for his own purposes - separated from Jinyoung's with a cute cartoon dog book holder that he just HAD to get - but the rest of it had fallen to his bad habit of shoving his books back in wherever they fit. His collection had overgrown the space again, and honestly, Jinyoung should really start pulling the unimportant ones to take back to the old used bookstore.

"Diary of a Vampire?" He asked, half laughing as he read the spine, "I didn't picture you as the type."

Jaebeom shook his head with a short but warm huff. "No one ever does. It's...not a bad book."

Jinyoung blinked as what little remained of his old impression of Jaebeom as an artsy high-brow photographer crumbled to dust. What kind of cute sappy shit was this? Jinyoung wanted his money back.

"It isn't," Jinyoung said, his smile settling into something a little gentler to placate his sulking guest, "indulgent, thoroughly irritating depending on the day...but not bad."

"What, you didn't like it?" Jaebeom's brows quirked comically as he rolled his eyes, and Jinyoung could get whiplash trying to follow the shifting tones of this conversation. How does Jaebeom do it?

"I don't like a lot of things, hyung," Jinyoung said.

It wasn't untrue, as interesting as the premise had sounded, the book was hardly one of Jinyoung's more engaging reads. He didn't hate it. There were worse books out there, even if he'd have carted it off months ago if it weren't an old birthday present from Sungjin and Wonpil - mostly Wonpil. The vocalist had been drooling over the book ever since he picked it off whatever convenience store clearance rack he got his day-old sweetbreads from. And if that wasn't a strange image on Jaebeom, devouring classic literature next to teen romance trash with his kimchi ramen.

Jaebeom himself looked at Jinyoung with eyes glistening beneath his lashes and teeth sunk into the corner of his mouth, chewing the skin red until he seemed about to break out bleeding. It was hard not to touch. It was so much about touch with Jaebeom.

He hummed a few notes to distract himself, bits and pieces of songs thrown haphazardly together.

But even with space, Jaebeom refused to breathe. He kept looking, only looking until Jinyoung could feel the gaze caress his skin.

"I got a lot of these books at the university actually," Jinyoung said when his nerves felt too tender under the scrutiny. "Sorry, they're a bit of a mess."

"No, it's interesting." Jaebeom said like Jinyoung hadn't referred to half a million things as 'interesting' in his short career.

"That bad, huh?" Jinyoung said. Jaebeom probably sorted his books by the Dewey decimal system or something over his dresser, all his books in neat little piles, lined up by their spines. And maybe it was the over sensitivity boiling over, but Jinyoung puffed out a laugh that teetered between snapping and not.

"That's not what I meant," Jaebeom said while his brows drew together and made his pout look heavier on his face. "It's a bookcase. If it's good for you it's...I just have a hard time pining your selection down, that's all. "

He trailed off again, and he has to stop doing that. Even Jinyoung needed something to work with.

So Jinyoung touched. No more than the barest kiss of fingertips at Jaebeom's elbow, it was just enough to draw Jaebeom's eyes back to his face. He blinked once, letting his lashes do their job as he moved closer and tried to look as encouraging as possible.

"I mean, you didn't really like Interview with a Vampire, right? What about the original Dracula? Or are you maybe a Shelley fan? I saw Frankenstein up there." Jaebeom said. "But you have bodice rippers, historical biographies, technical manuals, more manga than I could shake a stick at..."

Jinyoung opened his mouth before he had anything to say. After a couple of false starts, he closed it.

Jaebeom was still mumbling, ticking off a stream of genres and topics on his lips.

The main problem was that Jinyoung didn't read so much as he consumed, devouring volumes crammed in the leftover hours between jobs and homework like like energy bars crammed in to supplement meals. He chewed on everything alike, art, information, complete and utter trash, learning preferences but not caring enough to follow them. Instead, he consumed leaf by leaf until he was too full on words and thoughts to dwell on whatever was throwing him off his game. It's not that he didn't appreciate any of it. You do enough of anything, you'll learn to appreciate the nuances, but any book that came into Jinyoung's manic hands became an inevitable read.

"I read a lot of things, hyung," he said at last, "I think I'll read pretty much anything."

Jaebeom's face fell with every word, the corners of his eyes and mouth tightening and his brows growing more and more tense. It was the wrong answer.

Jinyoung bit his bottom lip. He could have lied, probably. It was an idol thing anyways. The fans know to accept it - expect it by now. But something held the urge back, strangled it to let the wispy truth hang in the air. It was odd to think of his reading as the coping habit it had become.

"But..." but Jinyoung didn't want that look to stay on Jaebeom's face. What a perfect waste of something so handsome, "I suppose I'll always hold a little something for the Great Gatsby."

It was a white flag, a thread that Jaebeom could take or leave as he wanted.

Jaebeom blinked again, closing and then stretching their narrow eyes open as wide as they would go until Jinyoung felt like pinching him again.

"Gatsby?" Jaebeom said. "You don't look...the type."

Jinyoung saw the exact moment when Jaebeom realized his unfortunate word choice, his brows soaring in comical alarm. He was so so cute.

"I thought it was just a school book. You didn't post much about it the in high school," Jaebeom said quickly, "and the last time you mentioned it was two years ago when you were laughing at your lit class."

It'd have been surprising if Jinyoung did look the type, in all honesty. Junior's whole brand was emotional and sweetly optimistic. As much of a pain as the persona can become, Jinyoung adored him and never kept him far from mind, a cherished memory of who he used to be. When Junior had first read Gatsby, he'd moaned and groaned at the ridiculous lives of wealthy and their unfathomable problems, ground his teeth against people who did so much thinking, thinking, thinking, and yet didn't seem to make any sense. But Jinyoung in college had looked at those pages with new eyes, recently wounded, open and ready to finally understand. He took his time, chewed the gristle and sucked at the fat, cracked the bone open and dug the rich and bitter marrow out of its mean-spirited crevices until the more flavorful nuances surrendered to his teeth.

"No one ever said you couldn't like school books, right?" Jinyoung said. He glanced at Jaebeom out of the corner of his eye, careful not to turn his head. Where did Jaebeom get off talking like that reading Salinger as an art major? Jinyoung huffed and stretched to reach the real treasure of his misfit collection. He'd talked himself out of buying it again and again for weeks before being slapped in the face with an Amazon sale so reasonable that he couldn't help but buy, even if he did have to fork out for a good dictionary to accompany it. But it was all worth it in the end, especially when he could feel Jaebeom's gaze bug out when the other boy saw that the gold foil text across the rich blue book jacket was in fact in the original English. "But you're right, they wouldn't make us read this version in school."

Jaebeom's lips pressed themselves into a line, and he stood there begging Jinyoung with his eyes. With a small smile at the corner of his mouth, Jinyoung handed it over.

Jaebeom didn't read as quickly as Jinyoung did with all his script skimming experience. Or perhaps he was picking his way around the unfamiliar language or trying to make out the multicolor translation notes and marks Jinyoung had scrawled in the margins as he struggled through vocabulary and context clues. Nevertheless, he was instantly familiar, intuitively feeling where in the story he wanted to flip to and always landing within one or two pages of it. When he moved down the page his eyes moved in little hops and skips, reading just enough to get his bearings and jumping off to find exactly what he was looking for. He knew Gatsby almost as well as Jinyoung did.

Curious, Jinyoung walked around behind Jaebeom to peer over his shoulder. Jinyoung could feel him tense when Jinyoung's chin came to a light rest on it. For a moment, Jaebeom stayed motionless. When Jinyoung stayed as he was, though, the tension receded and Jaebeom even shifted the book to an angle where they could both read comfortably about Gatzby's dangerously clumsy dance around the dysfunctional Buchanans.

"I read this book when you did, actually." Jaebeom's voice pulled him from his thoughts. He'd been so wrapped up he hadn't realized that Jaebeom had looked up from the pages and was scrutinizing Jinyoung over his shoulder. "I took me a week to find it so I had to do a little catch-up, but that was when you were still doing regular updates. I didn't like it much back then either."

"And now?" Briefly, Jinyoung wondered if it was a fair question. Did anyone honestly like Gatsby? Sincerely and in its own text? Or if it was just another one of those books that meant more and more to you to the more you hated it. Literary medicine to be drunk when and only when desperately needed.

"Well, it's the type that grows on you isn't it?" Jaebeom said quietly, and Jinyoung could hear the familiar heaviness that dragged both Jaebeom's tone down. "Jinyoung-ah...you didn't ask me in to talk about Salinger did you?"

Jinyoung shrugged weakly. Jaebeom was comfortably solid against him, and Jinyoung no longer wanted to support his own weight.

"Sorry hyung," he said, "But we can if you want to."

Jaebeom's eyes disappeared beneath his hair as he shook his head slowly. "Would you tell me what happened today instead?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now with Grammarly
> 
> Also, I didn't know where to put this but just in case anyone wants to know. Jackson is single-handedly responsible for the bookcase and shadow box coffee table. He's friends with a lot of art and design kids. You'd be surprised how many of those guys are totally down to sell their stuff to fellow students as long as the price is right. That's why it's so custom made for Jinson's - but mostly Jinyoung's - needs
> 
> I think a lot of people already know this but if anyone ever wants to drop by and talk or anything, I'm @thiefywoods on Twitter =D


	9. One Stray Thread

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jinyoung is weak
> 
> Jaebeom is weak
> 
> Joon is a weakASS

Jaebeom didn't think he'd make it through the day without a severe case of whiplash. On the one hand, it was a relief to have Jinyoung back to his old affectionate habits, even if he didn't seem fully out of whatever funk he'd been in. On the other, Jaebeom may be losing scope of that under the happy panic currently pushing all the air out of his lungs. The weight of Jinyoung's slight frame resting on him was warm and familiar even through the thin layer of blanket. It made Jaebeom stand a little straighter, and fix the little book so they both had a decent view.

  
It was interesting to look through Jinyoung's version of Gatsby. Jaebeom was a neat reader, if he needed to keep notes he always had post-its handy or a separate notebook to write in or - even more often - bullishly tried to remember everything and inevitably losing track of it. Jinyoung's little blue book was practically still dripping with all the ink he scribbled onto its pages. It was surprisingly sparse of strict translator's notes, more time spent detailing the feelings of a word rather than definitions. Even more prevalent than that, underlines and highlights squabbled aggressively with black print, glaring and present like the very presence of the text offended them. Daisy was his primary victim, and Jinyoung seemed to reserve a particularly sickening yellow-green marker for her notations that he pressed so viciously into the page it bled through half the time. In contrast, his marks against the male characters were almost normal, his notes on Nick even fond, made in a smooth blue pen and a steady hand.

And maybe things began to make a little more sense.

  
Jaebeom snuck a glance at Jinyoung to find his eyes far away and glassy, catching light even in the dim room away from the window. Despite their closeness, Jinyoung looked otherworldy, unreachable.

"I read this book when you did, actually. It took me a week to find it so I had to do a little catch-up, " Jaebeom said, remembering how he had to dig through his whole school library for nearly a week because he'd been too awkward to approach the bespectacled old woman who had a vulture gaze particularly reserved for his bleached hair and worn blazer, "but that was when you were still doing regular updates. I didn't like it much back then."

  
"And now?" Jinyoung said softly.

  
Honestly, that was a hard question. Did anybody really like Gatsby? Did anyone read through it and honestly enjoyed the book outside of a certain twisted sense of Schadenfreude? Even after so many years, Gatsby was still a bit too pessimistic for Jaebeom.

  
He'd had always had a flair for the brooding self-defeating Byronic hero, and Gatsby, self-made as he was, was a character he was primed to instantly like. In the book, however, there was a specific sort of cruelty in the way that Gatsby had been taken apart and dragged down. While logically Jaebeom understood it was what made The Great Gatsby the book that it was, the visceral dread sank to the bottom of his stomach and tended to stay there for hours before he could let it go. After his first read through, he balked so violently his dance crew hyung had to ban him from tricks for the evening because B-boy stunts were dangerous when your head wasn't in it. Maybe time dulled the sting, or maybe exposure calmed him down a little, but Jaebeom isn't sure his feelings for the book could be called 'like' in any capacity.

"Well, it's the type that grows on you isn't it?" Jaebeom said. It's not really a good answer, but there wasn't a better one. Jinyoung sagged into him, snuggling into his shoulder, and Jaebeom wanted to heft him up and carry him properly so he didn't feel so precarious. With a sigh Jaebeom leaned his head against Jinyoung's, breathing in the sweetness of his damn hair. "Jinyoung-ah...you didn't ask me in to talk about Salinger did you?"

  
Jinyoung shivered, his silky hair caressing Jaebeom's cheek with the smell of white jasmine. "Sorry, Hyung, we still can if you want."

  
It would have been fun, even more so now that Jaebeom knew for sure that Jinyoung was familiar with his favorite book. Discussing it over a steaming mug of hot tea on the couch with his favorite idol was exactly the kind of fantasy that would have every romance novel on the market seething in envy. But they've crossed that line in the sand pretty quickly, haven't they?

And Jaebeom had allowed himself to become such a creature that when Jinyoung hurts, Jaebeom also hurts.

He sighed and shook his head. "Would you tell me what happened today instead?"

For a moment, Jinyoung didn't respond.

_One heartbeat._

_Two._

"What if you trade me, hyung?" The words were barely audible, breathed rather than said. "An answer for a hug."

  
"What?" Jaebeom dared not speak any louder. It's not that Jinyoung leaned any harder on him, but he felt heavier, pressing down not only on Jaebeom's shoulders but also the lump in his throat and chest.

  
"You were so cold and formal today after we got so close last time. It makes me sad, hyung. I want a hug. I'll talk as long as you're still hugging me. How about that?"

Jinyoung's voice sounded as if it was spoken through a veil of smoke, misty and delicate, liable to be broken by the slightest misplaced breath. Jaebeom could almost feel the soft drag of his lips through the thin T-shirt material. Before he realized it, his hand had wandered up to pet Jinyoung's hair, combing his fingers through the dark strands. Jinyoung leaned into the petting, rubbing up against it like a cat. Jaebeom could hear the tiny hitches in Jinyoung's breathing as he caressed soft hair and skin. But here Jaebeom is stuck, suspended like an incomplete thought.

  
"We should sit down," Jinyoung said, breaking them out of the silence "It's a bit of a story."

  
It was easy to step away. Jinyoung, let him go without effort, and the younger boy's body seemed to hang as he was with or without Jaebeom's frame. But even when he pulled away, Jaebeom wrapped his hand around Jinyoung's. There were so many things Jaebeom wanted to say, but the words to say them didn't exist. Instead, their hands twined together to keep that contact.

  
As they settled on the couch, Jaebeom caught Jinyoung by the elbows and led him into his chest. Jinyoung crawled into Jaebeom's lap and curled up comfortably. His head, heavy with thought quickly found it's former place on Jaebeom's shoulder. As it had their first night, Jinyoung's body fit eerily perfect in the crook of his arm, slotting seamlessly into all the crevices that Jaebeom's awkward ungainly form left behind. Wrapped around each other, Jaebeom's hand came naturally to cradle the elegant dip of his back, visible even through the thick weave of the sweater. Jinyoung breathed into the sensitive skin of his throat, at first erratic and uneasy, but slowly smoothing out into a regular almost relaxing rhythm.

  
For a moment Jaebeom forgot he was meant to do anything other than lose himself in the smell of honey and jasmine.

  
"Hyung?" Jaebeom nodded softly to show Jinyoung he was still listening. "What do you think of me? As an idol? An actor?"

  
Jaebeom blinked as he looked down at Jinyoung's graceful form, outlined by the knit pattern of his sweater. He only had one word for it.

"You're beautiful," he said stroking the back of Jinyoung's hand with a thumb. Jinyoung's face was still hidden in Jaebeom's shoulder, but his body slumped against Jaebeom's chest, and Jaebeom hurriedly went back to petting, to stroking the planes of his back and the silk of his hair. "That's not what I meant, Jinyoung-ah. It's not just about looks. Everything about you is beautiful, the way you move, the tone of your voice, yes your looks but also the depth and feeling of your expressions. Just...everything. Everything I could think of about you is so beautiful."

  
After a pause, Jinyoung huffed softly, a bitter, weak little sound that Jaebeom had never heard from him before and never wanted to again. "You can't possibly believe all that. This isn't the fan page, hyung, you can be honest. I promise."

"I am." Jaebeom frowned. Jiynoung's hands dug into Jaebeom's sides as the younger boy curled them into fists. Jaebeom forced himself not to tense up under the pain. Jinyoung was probably strong enough to leave marks.

  
"JYPE doesn't agree with that first half," Jinyoung said in a flat, mechanical voice. "Word came down from PD-nim himself. My idols days are numbered. Looking at it, I guess it makes sense. I began my career as an actor. It's not hard to pack me off back into that little box. If it came down to it, would you rather try that with me or the one who actually dances?"

  
Cold washed down Jaebeom's spine, more frigid than any rain, and Jaebeom found himself face to face with a familiar enemy. He pulled Jinyoung's warm body closer, wrapped him more securely in his arms. It wasn't possible to adore another person more than Jaebeom already loved Jinyoung, but at that moment, a deluge of fierce aggressive affection rushed into his chest, pounding against his rib cage to get free. He only noticed how tightly his jaw was clenched when it began to ache dully.

"You're a great dancer," Jaebeom croaked, "you move like water. Every transition is seamless; it's so...it's a whole experience. You're incredible!"

  
Jinyoung hummed and ran his nose gently down the hard line of the jawbone, tracing the shape of Jaebeom's face.

  
"It's not enough," Jinyoung said, "Hoseok is better. Hoseok is better and he _raps_. Youngjae and Wonpil are better singers. Dowoon is more personable. Brian writes. I can't keep up. _I can't_."

  
"You were learning," Jaebeom said, "you said on Kiss the Radio."

  
"I'm still learning." Jinyoung hissed. His body tensed up, suddenly sharp beneath the fleece of his hoodie. "Learning is not doing."

  
All Jaebeom could do was nod; nod and force himself to relax back into the couch. He shifted to accommodate for Jinyoung's new edges and went back to tracing circular patterns into the small of the younger boy's back.

  
_One breath._

_Two._

  
Jinyoung melted back into his touch, so soft and forgiving that the tense points of his shoulders and the sharpness of his nails felt like Jaebeom had only imagined them.

"Sorry, hyung," he murmured against Jaebeom's shoulder. Jaebeom shook his head and kept petting. Jinyoung's hand had found its way to his collar to fiddle with its hem, brushing against Jaebeom's collarbone in soothing repetitive movements. "It's just...I'm out of time. I can learn what I like, practice as hard as I want. They won't debut me. And this following cycle will be a girl group. I'm twenty-four already, hyung, I can't _wait_ two cycles. I missed. It's acting or nothing. Maybe in ten years, they'll plop me in front of a fake piano for an OST ballad. Maybe if I'm lucky and I last that long."

"But," Jaebeom tried to fumble his vocal cords around the words boiling around in his head but failing, "you can...there's solo work."

"They said no."

Moisture beaded against Jaebeom's neck. They hadn't quite become tears. Jinyoung pressed them out of existence long before that. But if anything, they tore at Jaebeom even more.

It wasn't fair. When Jaebeom let himself be pushed out of music, it had been of his own volition. There had been no doors slamming in his face, no company looming over his shoulder telling him to pack it up. He'd simply weighed himself against everything that he'd have to achieve, everything he'd have to give up, and chose. But in the center of the industry, Jinyoung - beautiful bright extraordinary Jinyoung - wouldn't even get that chance.

  
Jaebeom's own eyes began to itch and water. He clutched onto the weight of Jinyoung's form to ground himself.

"Sometimes," Jinyoung said with a shaky chuckle, "I daydream about storming out, telling them to go fuck themselves and going indie."

  
_Indie._

  
Jaebeom blinked to clear his eyes. The mechanism in his brain began to whirr. Because Jinyoung should go indie. He had the talent. He even had the magnetic people's personality that Jaebeom has always struggled with. The road would be rough, but if what he wanted was an iron gauntlet instead of a stone wall to throw himself against, wasn't it the perfect place?

"Why don't you?"

-o-

_"Why don't you?"_

  
Jinyoung stilled. He wondered if he heard Jaebeom correctly. Indie artists were the ones who got absorbed into the idol world, picked up by companies and dolled up for the cameras. You don't go indie to become an idol. You accidentally end up there. Anyways it would be another two years at least until Jinyoung could hope to clear his company debt. He'd have no time to build an audience, no time to get himself out there. He pulled himself back just enough so he could look Jaebeom in the eye.

  
"Hyung," he said quietly, " _that's crazy_."

  
"Look, I know it sounds bad." Because it _does_. It a terrible impossible delusion of the kind Jiyoung has been repeatedly warned against. Jaebeom's hands wrapped themselves around Jinyoung's and were spasming like they had electricity were running through them. "I know. It's not glamorous or anything, and it takes a bitch long time and some dumb, dumb sounding decisions, but it's out there. It can be done. You don't have to walk out on JYP or anything. It can just be a little side gig, tons of people have other jobs to keep them afloat and fund their music. And...well, if you just want to dance..."

  
It's crazy. _**It's crazy**_. But Jaebeom's voice is soft and conspiring in his ear, and he smells so comforting, so familiar with Jinyoung's favored honey-scented body wash clinging to his skin. It's such a juicy little idea, a microcosm of everything he wants all wrapped up in a neat little package.

  
"Where would I even start?" Jinyoung said weakly - like he wasn't already going to attack google the minute Jaebeom leaves, like he wasn't seriously considering it.

  
"I'm kind of familiar, I mean, can pass some stuff along," Jaebeom said immediately, "...or I can text it to Jackson or something, and he can pass it on to you. It takes a little finicking around. but it's really not impossible."

  
Jinyoung took a deep fortifying breath.

"You're serious?"

Jaebeom looked him dead in the eye.

"Yeah."

_Okay. **Okay**._

"You don't have to pass it to Jackson," Jinyoung said after a pause, "hold on, let me give you my Kakaotalk. Message me and I'll approve you."

Because a Kakaotalk wasn't his actual number. Hell, people knew his KKT account already, it was just on private. And Jaebeom's been so congenial about this. He's a music man and a photographer, he wouldn't hack Jinyoung's account or anything. It was _fine_.

Jinyoung was _progressing_. You _took chances_ when you progressed.

That was why Jinyoung had his pocket lining in a death grip as he smiled nervously up at Joon's impressive side profile in the car three days later.

" _You_ want to start a youtube channel," Joon repeated flatly. "Jinyoung-ah, did you think this through? We already tried the vlogging thing remember? You're too nitpicky for that kind of work. You kept putting it off whenever you didn't feel cute enough. And you don't know anything about scene composition for personal cameras, all your design knowledge is from film and cinema."

  
Jinyoung winced. It was true, Jinyoung was notoriously bad at taking selfies and close angles, always looking either off-putting or blurry. Part of the reason his Instagram was so dry because all of his posted pictures had been from friends close by that he'd nagged to take his photo for him.

  
"I don't want to cut your feet out from under you, but you're just not suited to the close and intimate internet personality like Jae is. He'll laugh at anything, the earth, the heavens, himself...you're a little more precarious than that." Joon said with a sigh, taking one hand off the wheel to pat him on the shoulder briefly. "Is this what this is about? You don't have to be him, you know that right?"

  
"That's not it, hyung, really it's not," Jinyoung said a little too quickly, his voice sounding too unsure and desperate for his liking. "I won't be doing a vlogging channel, just a dance one, you know? One where I can post my own routines and stuff, just for people who might be interested."

  
"Don't you already do that on Instagram?"

  
"Well, those are just...a little short," Jinyoung said with a shrug. "I can do longer videos this way, maybe sing a little. I just...I want to feel like I still can, I guess."

  
Joon didn't answer for a moment, letting their silence stretch out for the rest of the block.

  
"Jinyoung," he said finally, "You're at a very important point in your career, right now. I know you've been holding off to find your footing a little, but you won't have much more time to do it. People are talking about you. Directors are asking for you. You know that right? We have to be very careful with whom and what we choose to show the public."

  
Jinyoung gritted his teeth and refused to answer.

  
"Feelings are good," Joon continued, voice floating over Jinyoung like he wasn't there, "feelings are what move people, but you can't chase a single feeling so far that you're blinded by everything else. You understand, right? Don't waste your time."

  
In his coat pockets, Jinyoung's fingers worried at the lining so hard it was beginning to give, the carefully hand-sewn seams too delicate for his manhandling. His throat felt paper dry. His tongue felt paper thin. Jinyoung remained frostily quiet.

  
They pulled into the JYPE parking lot without either of them saying a word. Jinyoung deflated, stepped out of the passenger seat and turned to say good-bye.

  
"Jinyoung, I stand by what I said. I _don't_ want you to waste your time. " Joon's voice was softer now, more breathy. Jinyoung almost couldn't hear him. "But, as long as you can promise me that you won't - and I _mean it_ , absolutely _no_ discussion. I see it becoming a problem and I'll cancel _everything_ \- I'll talk to the PR department for you."

  
"Hyung..." Jinyoung couldn't breathe. Joon laughed softly as he closed the car door and walked around. Jinyoung attacked him, wrapping himself around his manager's torso like a koala.

  
"Hey, hey!" Joon yelped the ghost of a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth, "didn't I just tell you not to get carried away?"

  
Jinyoung didn't let go until Joon had to pry him off or risk being late to his own schedule.

  
The next time he saw Jaebeom, they were in the cafeteria right by the art building, heads bowed together over piping hot custard buns and twin cups of steaming coffee to fight the autumn chill. Jaebeom had on a pair of large thick-framed glasses that gave him giant owl eyes under his long fluffy bangs that flopped over cutely when his head bowed as he speed-read through the company licensing agreements. Jinyoung wanted to stick his hands into them and pet the goofy lug until he rolled over.

  
When Jaebeom looked up his grin was big and lopsided.

  
"So, what do you think?" Jinyoung asked making a big show of batting his eyelashes. He wasn't wearing any falsies or mascara so it probably only made him look dumb, but it made Jaebeom laugh so Jinyoung counted it was a win. "It's pretty barebones, Joon-hyung said PR know about me and my 'notorious' allergy to sns, so they're not giving me much. Neither of them have any faith in me, but if I prove them both wrong, we can negotiate."

  
Jaebeom shook his head.

  
"No," he said, "no this is great. They're handling all your legal stuff, you have recording room access after hours. They even gave you a budget."

  
"A **_tiny_** budget."

  
" _ **A**_ budget."

  
Jinyoung let it go there because honestly, it _was_ amazing. He hadn't really expected much, maybe a piece of paper to give him the go ahead and good luck, but Joon, wonderful amazing Joon, had not only cleared him with PR but wheedled a contract out of upper management somehow. Jinyoung had the best manager ever.

  
"Well, I'm glad you're so excited," Jinyoung said with a roll of his eyes, "because I'm going to need a producer who knows the landscape."

  
Jaebeom blinked at him for a full minute, his half-eaten custard bun rolling out of his hand onto the table. "You're not serious."

  
"I'm quite serious," Jinyoung said, sitting up straight with his face pinched and exaggerated into a sneer like a stereotypical evil businessman expression and squaring his shoulders to fill out of the smart looking blazer he'd picked up from an old high school drama. "I could very well hire someone from JYP, but the starting salary is a little forbidding. In addition, I require someone with previous experience in the field, notoriously in short supply where I come from, you remember the state of the JYPnation twitter page."

Jinyoung paused briefly to mourn the horrible mix of market cynicism and his boss's own bad puns. As bad as Jinyoung was with his own online presence, even he could only shake his head at the official page.

  
"Of course, only if you aren't too busy to help me," Jinyoung leaned forward letting the honey of his alluring stage voice sweeten his tinted lips. "What do you say, _Hyuuuung_."

  
Jinyoung was 100% cheating, and he knew it. But from the way Jaebeom's eyes light up, frenetic but focused, it can't have caused _too_ much grief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol as always you can come and say hi @thiefywoods on Twitter XD
> 
> In my own head, I feel like even though he is a very private person, fic!Jinyoung honestly likes people. I know the image is he likes to be alone with his own thoughts, and I don't even think that's incorrect. But I like to think that that in itself causes problems when he's emotionally vulnerable, and I think even he realizes that he shouldn't be left alone sometimes.
> 
> In this sense, for the moment, I think he would have latched on to anyone who's proven as receptive to his vulnerable state as fic!Jaebeom is.


	10. The best laid plans of mice and men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and Park Jinyoungs

  
Jaebeom wasn't entirely sure whether or not he took a proper breath that entire day.

He'd already been a nervous wreck when a KKT message popped up from Jinyoung's personal acc. When they first talked, Jinyoung had responded with an enthusiastic but still polite "Thank you!" to his relay of basic information for beginners, but after that, they'd had two weeks of complete radio silence up until this morning's e-invite.

What made it worse was that he'd been in the darkroom at the time, phone tucked quietly away in his bag and didn't catch the message until he turned his notifications back on, and saw a pop-up inviting him to lunch without any bells or whistles, or indeed, any kind of information at all. It was succinct, to the point, only time and meeting place following the usual KKT greeting. There was no attached message, no emojis, nothing to go on to even vaguely guess at what Jinyoung could have wanted.

And now Jaebeom knew why Jinyoung didn't do much on sns.

Jinyoung met him with a feline smile and a sharply handsome silhouette that set off sparks under Jaebeom's skin. It was rare that he donned a more masculine look. In the last two years, commercials and dramas have featured him almost exclusively in hoodies and large sweaters. Today though, his long coat and blazer looked tailor fitted, accentuating the confident set of his shoulders and tapering in to hug his side and the circle of his tiny waist. His raven hair was brushed back and up off his forehead, a style that made him look more serious and mature. His eyes had been carefully sculpted out with delicate black liner and matte shadow that made them hypnotic.

_Fuck._

Jaebeom could have passed out on the spot. He actually might have.

One moment, he was standing at the cafeteria doors, and the next, he was sitting at one of the far-end tables next to a window leaking brisk autumn air with a piping hot Americano and a sweet bun in hand. In front of him sat a neat sheaf of paper with JYPE's official stamp. In the seat across him, Jinyoung was glowing.

Jaebeom 's eyes skimmed across the page, picking up the most pertinent information, only stopping to read in detail what resources Jinyoung would have to work with. He hissed as he saw the number, whoever had hammered out Jinyoung's contract had been pretty generous with their estimates. Jaebeom new people who ran channels on half what Jinyoung had available. It must be so nice working with a company safety net.

"Well, I'm glad you're so excited," Jinyoung said, "because I'm going to need a producer who knows the landscape."

And Jaebeom stopped breathing entirely.

He was falling, so hard and so fast he couldn't so much as turn his head. Jinyoung's dark eyes were like mirrors, catching the golden rays of early winter sunlight and reflecting Jaebeom's own bewildered face back at himself. There's no end to them and Jaebeom can only watch his reflection fall through the fragments of broken light, down, down into whatever stray thought Jinyoung decided to drop him in.

"What are you planning?" His voice sounds faint and thin like he's pulling it from outside himself and his speakers are rusty.

Jinyoung hummed idly and laced his fingers in front of him. Although his mouth was obscured, Jaebeom can see the tell-tale crinkle at the corner of his eyes.

"Bounce," he said, "it has to be Bounce."

Jaebeom nodded, not sure what else to say. Jinyoung was right. If it was anything, it had to be Bounce.

Bounce, however, made everything at once that much easier and that much more complicated.

He sighed as he stared down at the flash drive Jinyoung had handed him at the cafeteria before he had to rush off to meet Park Joon. On it were all the original recordings for Bounce, instrumentals voice parts and all, clean and separated, just begging for Jaebeom to dig into them. They sounded like a joy, even in his free software and old speakers and it was refreshing to have a template to work from once in a while.

The problem was that Bounce itself danced a very delicate line between fun and cringy, if Jaebeom tipped it too much one way or the other, added even a hair on one or either side, he risked tipping that balance and ruining everything.

He _knows_.

He's _tried_.

Clicking through his older folders Jaebeom pulled out two innocuous looking sound files with generic numbered file names, the R&B and hard rock remixes of Bounce he'd scribbled out when he'd first bought his sound mixer. Listening to them again, he winced. The rock version was practically edgy enough to cut, full of sound distortions and added percussion that sounded horrible since the track hadn't been clean to begin with. The R&B version was a little closer to what he needed, quieter, a little slower and pitched down for smoothness, but it left very little impact.

"I need to be memorable," Jinyoung had said. "The same person, but a little more mature, a little more ambitious. But I also think the fun elements of the song are still important. It wouldn't be Bounce otherwise, I think, and it wouldn't really be Junior. Do you know what I mean?"

Jaebeom does.

Maybe he didn't before, obscured by the blurred line that defined a fan's relationship to his idol. But as a...as an acquaintance, Jaebeom's began to slowly unravel the beautiful gordian knot that was Park Jinyoung.

  
It had to be Bounce. If Jinyoung was going to redo his first step, he had to return to form, to the beginning. In a way, it was also a peculiar form of justice, of at once reminding the public who he was but also that he has grown, that he has changed and become all the stronger for it. The song too was like Jinyoung, a balancing act between too much and too little.

But Bounce was not Jinyoung in the way that Jinyoung was Bounce.

There was a comforting predictability to Bounce, a sense that you knew what you were in for, and if you were still listening, that was all on you. It required the listener to buy into its kooky little atmosphere, act a little silly, have a little fun. Dealing with Jinyoung, however, was like being tossed into the wind. Every moment Jaebeom had ever spent with Jinyoung was a distortion in time that blurred past his eyes before he knew what was going on, or slowed every second to a crawl, his presence seeping into Jaebeom's body until his blood felt thick and syrupy in his veins.

Taking a deep breath he replayed first all the clean sound files and then his old R&B remix. Maybe there was something here he could still fiddle with.

Jaebeom's alarm screeched at exactly 6am every morning. Like always he slapped it around at least twice before finally dragging himself up at 6:15. He groaned at the dull pain on his face, poking gently at the tender skin where his keyboard had imprinted angry red marks into him. His head was pounding from both lack of sleep and too much caffeine. This was the third day he'd woken up with them, having taken his beloved laptop to bed, wracking his brain for ideas.

With a groan, he trudged to the shower to hopefully wake up and soothe his headache temporarily away. He turned the water on as hot as possible and let the steam work its magic. For a while it seemed effective, replacing the heavy fog in his head with clear airy heat that remained even after Jaebeom had rubbed every drop of water out of his hair with a towel. Skipping the coffee this morning he wandered around the kitchen wondering if maybe he should make a proper breakfast for once. With a shrug, he washed some rice and dropped it in the rice cooker. He had a little kimchi left in the fridge. Maybe that would be good, fried up with some scrambled egg.

Humming softly, he went to draw the curtains to get some more light in the kitchen, just in time to watch a familiar blur of maroon pedal past his window. It was just a split second, but what Jaebeom's eyes couldn't absorb, his brain - so intimately familiar with the motions - gladly supplied. The tenderness of Jinyoung's face as he settles into his ride and the endorphins begin to take over. The way his breath frosted in the air. Other details caught a ride on their coattails. And Jaebeom was left remembering the shape of Jinyoung inside his arms, how he rested against Jaebeom both so solid and grounding, but also unbelievably delicate and dream-like, as if he was water slipping easily through Jaebeom's fingers.

The pressure of just what he signed himself up for came rushing back in, beating on his skull like a jackhammer. At his side, his fingers twitched.

He needed help. Someone to whack him around the head and get him back into gear.

Jaebeom groaned.

It was around times like these that he kind of regretted not keeping up with the old party life. Writing music was a lot more involved when you had writer friends, people to bounce off of rather than just sitting in an echo chamber of your own mind.

He still had Mark, but even before they met Mark had been unambiguously a dancer. The older boy thought in movement and shapes, the turns of his body becoming as much art as any photo he took or model he rendered.

Jaebeom sighed as he haphazardly fried his kimchi.

"I can see what you mean, I think," Mark said that afternoon as he quickly plucked out one of his Airpods with one hand, somehow still managing to steer his on-screen character away from a stream of bullets. "It's not bad, but it's missing something."

"Right?" Jaebeom sighed as he sank back on the couch. Mark hummed vaguely.

"Not that I would know what it is," he said. "It's not like I took theory classes or anything. It doesn't sound terrible though. Your boy will be fine with it, probably. He gave you the files - like what - a week ago? It's not like he'll be expecting it tomorrow."

Jaebeom sighed and started picking at the buttons on his cuffs, ruining yet another button down.

Mark was right. Of course, he was right, but Jaebeom's frazzled head didn't want to accept it. He'd gotten out of blocks before. Usually, it just took some time or something that set him off and made him angry again. But he couldn't help the shiver running down his spine at the possibility that this would be the last time. That this would be the one where the well ran dry for good.

"You're really torn up about this aren't you?" Mark's voice pulled him out of his thoughts. The older boy had finally turned back to look at him, brows furrowed. Behind him, a bright green "victory" dropped across the TV screen. "Why don't you go take a walk? Bring your camera and shoot some stuff, you know, clear your head a little. You could probably even talk Lee into giving you a couple of credits for it, he hella likes you. If that doesn't work, pick your stubborn ass up and go text one of your _professional musician friends_...that you _have_."

"Hyung, I told you, year-end events are coming, they're all going to be busy." But Mark only rolled his eyes and shooed him away while he joined another waiting room.

Jaebeom grumbled as he pulled on his jacket and left Mark's apartment. The wind nipped irritably at his nose as Jaebeom sighed preparing for his long unpleasant walk across campus. The late afternoon sun turned the clouds orange as it passed them on its way down. He might not make it home before dark.

The thing was, Jaebeom really did wish he could just call up Namjoon or Yoongi. As busy as they were, he'd get an answer eventually. Neither he nor Jinyoung were particularly in a hurry this early in the game. Yoongi especially has never left Jaebeom on read for more than a couple of days to a week, often getting back to him in the wee hours before his group members finally managed to drag him to bed.

But this thing with Jinyoung felt different, fragile as a spider's newly spun gossamer, still too delicate to hold dew just yet. No amount of reinforcement would help if it hadn't properly developed on its own. Jaebeom wasn't trying to pass off their ideas as his, and in the first place, neither idol really wrote or even performed in a style that suited Jinyoung.

...which was the other half of the problem.

Before Jaebeom could have readily argued the point on any number of forums required that Junior was fun and sweetly flirty. He stole hearts with pouty lips and long lashes, and any glimpse of sexuality - a slip of shoulder here, a hip roll there - was carefully made to look incidental, innocent.

And Jinyoung was still that, in a sense. Jaebeom's not exactly sure if he's ever seen Jinyoung wear anything remotely provocative so much as his clothes simply clung to his body in all the best ways. Even when he was pressed up against Jaebeom and straddling his lap, his touches were innocent, and his eyes were always on Jaebeom's face, or else nothing entirely. Any suggestion of sensuality felt removed from him, a delusion born in the depths of Jaebeom's terrible terrible mind. He still had his dry sense of humor, a little sharper, a little wittier, but not drastically so. He still flirted easily, talked readily.

But he was different. He was so different that Junior looked like an image in a mirror, fooling the eye with an illusion of light.

Jaebeom kicked at the last of the season's leaves as he walked, finding some satisfaction in the way the crumbled into dry brown debris. The lamps faded into their yellowy glow as the sky got darker and the air grew sharper. With a curse, Jaebeom hurried along the path, already empty of students.

By the time he got to the library, Jaebeom was feeling the pins and needles in his arms and regretting his decision to only wear a T-shirt beneath his jacket in lieu of something thicker. After a week of decently balmy evenings, he hadn't expected tonight to be so cold. Making a quick decision, he slipped into the library in hopes of not catching pneumonia before he got home. A lot of people seemed to have the same idea. All the study tables on the bottom floor were packed to the brim, and Jaebeom found himself squished down in to a seat in front of a boy bundled to impressive roundness with his face planted in a literature textbook, snoring softly.

The kid looked terrible, raccoon eyes and sallow skin that seemed to stretch too tight over the bones of his face. From the looks of it, he'd barely started; the passage introduction sitting mockingly on the other page. Remembering his own grappling with midterm-season, Jaebeom sighed and braced his hand on the kid's shoulders giving him a couple of shakes until he blinked awake.

"Am I late? Hyung!" the boy yelped as he bolted up, when his glassy eyes landed on Jaebeom he blinked slowly several times. "You're not my hyung."

"I'm not," Jaebeom said with a soft chuckle. "You just look like you might regret the nap.

The boy groaned.

"You're not wrong. Thanks, sunbaenim," He sighed and slapped himself on the cheek with one hand, leaving a bright pink mark that spidered across his face. "You really saved me, although maybe not for that long, at least if Holden Caulfield has anything to say about it."

"Oh, is that Catcher?"

The boy's eyes widened to comical size and he sputtered incoherently for a moment.

"Did you - I mean obviously you have but - do you still remember anything?" He said at last. "I'll buy you coffee if you want - I just really need the help. I've been depending on my hyung but he's really busy too, you know? So maybe, if you're not in a rush to do anything..."

"It's fine," Jaebeom said, "I like the coffee milk, by the way, red can. not black. The closest vending machine is right in front of the 24hr study room. Run, it'll do you some good."

Youngjae, as Jaebeom found out later, was a hard and methodical worker. He had all his notes written neat and organized and seemed intent on bullying his way through his literature homework no matter much it sapped out of him. The more Jaebeom talked to him, the more it was apparent that his head was just too busy busy busy to pull all the little bits he wanted from Salinger's incredibly elusive style. Once the metaphorical fish was caught for him though, Youngjae's mind clamped down on it like a steel trap. All Jaebeom had to do was sit back and sip his coffee as he watched Youngjae gnaw with gusto until he had enough meat to form his argument. By the time Jaebeom finished his drink, the underclassman was on track to finishing his essay sometime tonight.

Jaebeom himself had calmed down remarkably as well. His headache had gone away, and his shoulders felt less heavy. Maybe his situation wasn't so different from Youngjae's maybe he just needed to find his fish.

He left Youngjae - who bowed to him in response, when was the last time _that_ happened - and walked outside into full dark only broken by the glow of lamplight on the pavement. The air was dappled and crisp. Jaebeom belatedly realizing that it had begun to snow. But, newly warmed from the library heater, Jaebeom found it more beautiful than worrying, wrestling his phone from his jacket pocket to snap a few quick pictures, first of the dark sky that seemed to simultaneously extend forever and close in above him, then of dark silhouette of the lamps against their own light in the snow.

He snapped a few more phone pictures as he walked home at least until his hand started shaking too much to get any half decent shots. But even then, he didn't mind at all.

-o-

Jinyoung wasn't sure what he was expecting, having shared his private KKT with Jaebeom, but he didn't think it would be so...quiet.

More than as a fan - it was hard to think of Jaebeom as a fan anymore - Jaebeom didn't even talk as much as the timid little trainees who at least occasionally asked if Jinyoung had the time to give them pointers now and again, less nervous around a sunbae who shared their practice rooms than ones who had their own. Jinyoung couldn't bear to compare him to the rest of his friends who regularly crowded their chats with bad memes and a real-time picture diary of their dog, _Youngjae._

So he was surprised when, as he trudged out of a Saturday vocal lesson with a burning throat, he saw a message asking him if he was free to maybe meet up at Soul Cafe for the afternoon, timestamped 37 minutes ago.

Cursing, Jinyoung bowed a quick goodbye to the vocal teacher and abandoned the rest of the group to grab his bags. Foregoing the elevator he wrenched the door to the stairwell open and took the steps three at a time. He hit the bottom floor just in time to catch Jaebeom walking out into the lobby with a wide paper cup in hand and his bag slung over his shoulder.

Luckily for the both of them, Jaebeom somehow had the reflexes to pull away just as they were about to collide. Jinyoung was left to try and catch some semblance of balance as his feet tripped over themselves. He was saved by a strong warm hand grabbing onto his elbow and tugging hard to break his momentum.

"Jinyoung?" Jaebeom gasped, his hand still in a death grip on Jinyoung's elbow. "Where..."

"Oh, hyung," Jinyoung croaked between huge gulps of air that made his already strained voice sound nightmarish. "You're still here. I thought - I just got out - I thought maybe I missed you."

Above him, Jaebeom let out a small chuckle. He hauled Jinyoung up until they stood face to face. The grin on Jaebeom's face was sunnier than the winter sky outside and Jinyoung wasn't prepared for the way it raked over his adrenalin pumped nerves, working them raw until they heated up all over his body.

"You could have just messaged me back," he said, "I would have waited."

"I...didn't think of it at the time," Jinyoung grumbled. And _boy_ , does that make him feel stupid. He hated it, scrabbling to find any trace of calm he could muster. But his heart was betting impossibly fast, pumping the leftover panic all over him and washing away any trace of sense to be had. Around them people were staring, probably wonder who this mess of a person was. Jinyoung turned into Jaebeom to try and hide his face hoping to god they didn't recognize him. "Well, I caught you anyway, so does it really matter, hyung?"

Jaebeom shook his head, still chuckling. Even though the older boy was laughing at his expense, it was a gentle inviting sound, and Jinyoung didn't know if he's gotten less annoyed or more.

"Well, if it helps," Jaebeom said, "you can take it as a rule of thumb that I'm pretty much always going to be downtown on Saturdays so you can call or text whenever."

Jinyoung huffed but nodded. They stood there for a while in an uneasy silence. After a bit anyone who was looking slowly got bored and continued on their way, flowing around Jinyoung and Jaebeom as they shifted on their feet waiting for the other person to start talking.

"So...why was it you wanted to see me. hyung?" Jinyoung finally asked.

"Oh," Jaebeom's hand finally dropped from Jinyoung's elbow as he fumbled with the bag at his side, "Well, do you wanna maybe sit somewhere? I managed to get started on a few samples over the week. I wondered if you wanted to see them, maybe head me in the right direction."

Well, now he was _really_ glad he caught up to Jaebeom.

Jinyoung stole a glance back at the packed cafe and bit his bottom lip. Weekends were the worst days for Soul Cafe, early release from schools and workplaces swelling the customer pool to three, sometimes four times its regular size depending on the season. Jinyoung didn't see how they would manage to find a table in that chaos. He could try to maybe grab a basement office, but managers, especially of younger idols tend to jam their meetings and talks into weekends too, and they usually reserved those earlier in the week. After wracking his brain, Jinyoung peered up at Jaebeom from beneath his lashes.

"Hey hyung, how hungry are you?" He said. "Cuz I was thinking there's probably more free tables at that convenience store we were at last time."

"Jinyoung-ah, you really are a man after my own heart," Jaebeom said, his eyes lighting up prettily.

"Come on, hyung," Jinyoung rolled his eyes, "let me pay you back that bowl of ramen."

Not thirty minutes later Jinyoung's jaw dropped over his styrofoam bowl of instant dumplings.

" _Hyung_ ," he hissed picking out his earbud to talk to Jaebeom properly, "you said you had _samples_. These are not **_samples_**."

Jinyoung squinted at Jaebeom's laptop screen in disbelief. Sitting innocuously in their own little folders were the three completed remixed Jinyoung had just listened to.

"How did you manage to churn these out so fast, I gave you the sound files a week ago." Jinyoung shook his head and look again to see if he was somehow hallucinating.

Across from him, Jaebeom choked mid-bite on an even spicier smelling ramen than they'd had last time. Even when he'd finally swallowed down the correct pipe, Jaebeom dawdled around the answer, stirring his noodles idly around the cup.

"They may not have taken only a week," he admitted at last with a blushy smile and a shrug of his shoulders. "I may have...begun a lot of fan projects back in the day...that I never really posted, so they're usable, I promise, they're usable. Two of them are revamps, so really the only new one is the EDM version since that's getting pretty popular and all. Thought I'd maybe throw it out there."

" _Throw it out there_ , he says," Jinyoung whined playfully. "Hyung. just take the compliment. I'm being serious."

But Jaebeom only went back to scarfing down his ramen.

Jinyoung rolled his eyes and looped the three finished files while he fussed with the other files, trying to open anything that didn't seem like it would crash the laptop. Although Jinyoung had never really had time to learn the computer works behind it, the stages of music production fascinated him. Not so much the software of it all, but just the creative work, the putting together. The company never let him play around with this stuff, but Jaebeom just calmly went to make another cup of his spicy ramen while he let Jinyoung fuck with his laptop, completely unconcerned. Who _does_ that?

All three of the remixes were good, polished, and Jinyoung could probably work with any of them. Jinyoung gravitated the most towards the R&B version. The original Bounce had been a fun little romp of a song, something sweet and summery to send of school vacations and day trips with friends. Jaebeom had taken that and slowed it down, pitched it deeper and dropped the near raucous percussion into something thicker and denser. It still had some kick to it, but it was a laid back sort of kick, effortless and a little bit sensual, and Jinyoung liked the feel of it on his ears.

But would he definitely choose it? Maybe 7 times out of 10. It was so close.

This in itself was a problem but it was a problem he was happy to have. Jinyoung bit his lip as he sank down into bed with his own laptop, replaying it again for the umpteenth time in two days. On the floor, Yugyeom had his essay materials spread in a mess around him and was currently groaning into his textbook excerpt of "Catcher in the Rye." Jinyoung almost laughed when he saw the essay prompt.

"Don't do that," Jinyoung said as he poked the back of Yugyeom's ash gray hair with one sock covered toe, "you're the one that wanted to take Gen Lit this semester."

"They told me it was required!" Yugyeom whined, a high pitched almost ear-piercing sound.

Jinyoung rolled his eyes. "No, Technical Writing is. Your professor just assumed you hadn't taken it because of your horrid chicken scratch."

Yugyeom's handwriting was illegible to pretty much anyone but the dancer himself. Jinyoung never understood how someone capable of the kind of sharp precise movements characteristic of Yugyeom's personal dance style could have such offensive fine motor control. Yet, no matter how much he wrote or how hard he tried, Yugyeom's big calloused hands inevitably fumbled his pencil as he pulled it haphazardly across the paper. Couple that with his rough drafts, long, fragmented things often written down on different bits of paper - because _clearly,_ if he couldn't do it in the dance room, it didn't deserve to be done at all- and Yugyeom's essays became terrifying monoliths that he could in no way scale alone. It'd gotten better once he switched to writing on his phone and tablet, although they were still in fragmented notes and memos and text messages to his own laptop. At least those didn't leave Jinyoung's floor looking like the paper waste plant. Even Yugyeom couldn't possibly fuck up typing fonts.

Nevertheless, it was still safe to say that Jinyoung died a little inside every time Yugyeom was assigned an essay.

"You aren't even helping," Yugyeom whined as he flopped down over his keyboard.

"I'm supervising you," Jinyoung said sweetly, "We already talked about your thesis, remember? In the library with Youngjae? Who - by the way - _finished_ his essay _days_ ago? You know what you have to do, I'm just here to make sure you don't marathon Chris Brown MVs and cat videos until you miss the send in time again."

"It was one time!" Yugyeom grumbled, but from the way his shoulder's slumped, Jinyoung could tell that he'd given up the argument.

With a huff, Jinyoung went back to his remixes.

Yugyeom would be fine. He picked things up instinctually when he read, teeth stripping down all the little bits of a text and spitting out just the bone, unlike Jinyoung who had to work for it or Youngjae who sometimes needed a nudge in the right direction, concepts and ideas just kind of stuck to Yugyeom after he's read something enough times. Where he tripped up was getting it all out there.

Yugyeom wasn't afraid of hard work, but he was impatient of it. Once he understood something, he wanted it to come as soon as possible. He didn't always want to wait for his own capabilities to catch up and was sometimes unwilling to accept that understanding how something worked didn't necessarily mean he could make it happen. In that effort, he often worked himself to a catatonic state trying to force everything else to catch up with his head. Unlike Younjae, you couldn't always leave Yugyeom to stew with his own thoughts or he would self destruct completely. Jinyoung has long since learned when he could let the kid float and when he had to drag Yugyeom behind him on a leash.

"Hyuuung, what are you listening to anyway?" Yugyeom's thin voice crept its way past the heavy beats in his ears.

Jinyoung sighed. He glanced at his the clock to see that it's been about two hours since the younger dancer has had a proper break.

"You wanna listen?" He said picking out the buds and carefully tucked them into Yugyeom's ears, mindful of his freshly pierced lobes. "Bounce remixes for this new Youtube thing I'm doing. Tell me what you think of this one. It's the one I'm sort of heading towards. There are two others if you wanna give those a try too."

Yugyeom sat up eagerly, probably happy to abandon Salinger and his coming of age philosophies for now.

Yugyeom began learning songwriting and producing at around the same time Jinyoung did. Unlike his flailing hyung though, Yugyeom had taken to it like a fish in water, his instinctual way of learning catapulting him forward leaps and bounds, especially since his own schedule wasn't quite as off the rails as many other trainees, and he loved it nearly as much as he loved dancing. By now, he had outstripped Jinyoung.

Jinyoung watched as Yugyeom's face dropped into a frown, brows furrowing as his head rocked from side to side with the rhythm. After a while, he made grabby hands at Jinyoung's laptop and began to flick through the different files, he didn't seem to listen to each sample for more than a handful of seconds, before clicking to another, and dragging the play bar cursor all over the place.

"Hyung," he said finally head tipping backward to use Jinyoung's stomach like a pillow, "this Youtube channel, it's your personal one right? Like only for you?"

"Yeah? Well PR'll have their way with it. They do with everything," Jinyoung said, "but I'm not doing this for anybody if that's what you're thinking."

"Okay," Yugyeom nodded and went back to messing with the samples.

"Yah," Jinyoung poked him hard in the cheek, making Yugyeom squawk indignantly, "what is that supposed to mean? Use your words, you overgrown goblin."  
  
After some more melodramatic whining, Yugyeom sighed. "None of these sound right."

"...Real helpful, buddy. I thought they sounded okay." Jinyoung rolled over so he could look at Yugyeom properly. "Remember, Bounce is kind of a weird song, to begin with. That's JYP's fault."

"No, no," Yugyeom shook his head, "that's not it. They're _good_ updates, especially considering - you know - it's _Bounce_." Jinyoung swatted him for that, but even he had to admit that it would have been difficult to make Bounce sound mature. It just wasn't that type of song.

"That's not what I meant, hyung, hold on," Yugyeom hit the pause button and pulled first the earbuds out of his ears and then the jack out of Jinyoung's laptop. After a second Jinyoung saw what he was trying to do and reach over to flick on his favorite Bluetooth speaker, a fan gift that had been cleverly made into a large teddy bear.

The slow, sexy R&B beats sounded far more off-putting than you'd think, echoing out the bear's round speaker paws.

The song was unmistakably Bounce. Even as altered as it was, the beats were so familiar that Jinyoung's body anticipated the old choreography even as his head adapted it to follow the new rhythm. His muscles itched to break into the routine that had been ingrained into them. And for good reason, it was a good song. It suited what an older Junior should be, still fun, but darker, less playground and more playboy, but retaining the light playful melody of Bounce's old poppy identity.

"It doesn't sound like _you_." Yugyeom's voice pulled him out of his thoughts. The younger boy looked at Jinyoung flatly like he just expected Jinyoung to understand. "I don't think this is it, hyung. It's just Bounce again but, like, harder. You need something a little more fitting, you know?"

"I can't change it that much," Jinyoung propped his chin on his hand and glared at Yugyeom tiredly. "Bounce is still under company license."

"I know, I know, it's a good update," Yugyeom said backing off quickly, "but I think you're gonna be putting yourself out there, you don't just need a good update, hyung. You need a _you_ update. You're not working with Hoseok-hyung anymore, so it's not like you gotta match him, so why not make it all you? Something that works better with your dance style, yeah? Youngjae-hyung can tell you better but - well this is Bounce gone darker but it's not...flowy enough? Like, it's good for me. My dancing works naturally with this kind of stuff. But you're super smooth, almost classy kinda."

Jinyoung sighed, feeling a headache knocking at the back of his head. "so you want me to dance...classy."

"Well yeah, kinda."

"Kim Yugyeom for the love of _fucking heaven_."

"...You know he's not wrong," Youngjae said with a sparkle in his eye and a laugh simmering in his voice the following afternoon. "He just doesn't know how to tell you."

"Useless cretin," Jinyoung growled without bite.

"You love him," Youngjae chirped before shoving another spoonful of tofu stew into his mouth. He took a moment to wave to what Jinyoung could only guess were fans lingering behind Jinyoung's back.

For all that Soul Cafe was jammed to the bursting, the food really was very good, a mix of trendy new age health food and diet versions of good old down-home Korean staples for the little idols who missed mama's kimchi a little more than they liked to admit. Almost everything was carefully curated and prepared to match the finicky food regimens of the starlets they catered to, and the generous employee discount certainly didn't hurt.

It was also the only place he could even think to sit Youngjae down around comeback season. Even school was no longer reliable as the young idol began skipping more and more classes in favor of practices, recordings, and promotional reality shows.

"The beats are nice and heavy," Youngjae said, "They've got such a nice swing to them. Signature R&B really. It's interesting that the mixer decided to remove the rap entirely and let the music do some leg work, you can tell they really know their stuff. And they don't work professionally? It sounds so familiar! And I really like just that tiny hint of synth behind it."

It's times like these that Jinyoung thanked the gods that Youngjae was one of those aforementioned indie artists gone idol. Unlike Jinyoung and Yugyeom, he'd studied music since the beginning, the poster boy of plucky gumption who delivered newspapers and handed out ads on street corners after school, first to pay for his expensive vocal lessons, later to fund his modest but beautiful SoundCloud account. Unlike Yugyeom, Youngjae often communicated in _actual words_.

"That's what I like about it," Jinyoung said, "it kind of turns people's expectations on their heads a little. It's a bold move to come out with something without a rap part nowadays that isn't a full-scale ballad."

"Yeah," Youngjae nodded, "but isn't it a little too much? The song's slowed down during the pre-chorus, you'll have to choreograph around it. And well, if you ask me, that pre-chorus is kind of dirty. Like Yugyeomie said, it's fine for him. He can do a little dirty, a _lot_ sexy. But I think it'd be better for you to go a little cleaner, hyung."

"Are you saying I can't pull off sexy?" Jinyoung huffed out a grumbly breath, annoyed all over again. What is with these babies thinking he couldn't do sexy? Sure he wasn't going to go grinding all over the goddamn floor like Yugyeom does. The little idiot was a lost cause. But Youngjae? Sunshining, rainbow-barfing, pull-over-dog-sweater-wearing _Youngjae_? "I can do sexy! I've been doing sexy before you even joined the company, you embryo."

Jinyoung knew he was turning heads, but he didn't care. His impudent dongsaeng needed to pay for this kind of insolence. Across from him Youngjae's mouth was quivering, fighting not to laugh and draw even more attention. When Jinyoung heard the first giggle warble past his lips, he knew they weren't going to get anything done at lunch.

"And I couldn't get him to stop laughing until he had to go to practice," Jinyoung sighed dropping his head down in his folded arms, "Brian hyung can tell you, not even Hyunwoo-hyung could get him to stop laughing. Youngjae used to be _terrified_ of Hyunwoo-hyung. Honestly, why do I even try anymore...oh, don't you two start too! Hyung please!"

To Jae and Brian's credit - though they looked at him with eerily identical evil grins - they didn't actually laugh out loud. But there was no question about it, Jinyoung would never live this down. Not when they were pushing 100 and on their death beds. This was why he wanted to approach the little ones first. At the very least he could bully them into silence if he kept at it long enough.

"It's okay, Jinyoungie, it's not your fault you're a baby," Jae cooed at him, half lying over the practice room piano. Brian rolled his eyes and made to push the older singer off, but like always when Jae decided to be somewhere, he adhered like super glue and would under no power be removed.

"That's not what he means, Nyoungie," Brian said with a roll of his eyes. He gave up on pushing Jae off, instead of using the older boy as a prop for his music binder. "I think we're all aware you can do sexy after Singapore."

"Thank you!"

"But, this isn't your type of sexy." Brian punched the repeat button on Jinyoung's phone and let the smooth bass of the R&B version fill the room again.

"The regular verses are pretty okay, actually, it's just your pre-chorus that's sort of throwing everything for a loop. Listen to how that settles in. That bass line pounds on you like a heartbeat, hell, it practically a whole new song. But pay attention to the synth especially, it's soft but it's sensual - messy - it's like you could..."

"It's like you could fuck to it," Jae cut Brian off with a smirk, "the bass is bad enough but that synth, dear god, you're gonna have to hump something on camera to fit in with that pre-chorus. Joon would actually kill you if you put out this hoe ass song, and then all your middle age noona fans will cry."

Oh, _right_.

"Oh yeah, break it to him gently," Brian hissed under his breath. His free hand pat Jinyoung consolingly on the back. "You're not exactly beyond sexy, Nyoungie, but this is a little much, especially for your image. Think of it this way. This is really polished for being thrown together in a week. Whoever your man is, I'm sure he could whip up something a little...cuter...for you in no time."

"I don't _want_ to be cute," Jinyoung whined just to whine. He knew Jae and Brian were right. Now that the idea is in his head he can't unhear the seductive murmur in the pre-chorus, couldn't disassociate it from his experience of the overall song.

"Don't worry, baby," Jae cackled, "being less slutty than this will be a piece of cake."

Jinyoung ignored him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just really like causing problems I think
> 
> lol as always drop by an chat at @Thiefywoods on Twitter if you feel like it =D


	11. Instability

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> all good things come by snooping

Jaebeom woke up to IG notifications beeping on his phone.

_ArStationVita_ : Def-hyung being cryptic? Aesthetic!!!

 _Dandilonie_ : u good bro? did u download filters into ur toaster or sum?

> _ArStationVita_ : Do you STILL have that ID? Change back Yummie, it wasn't THAT funny.
> 
> _Dandilonie_ : wtf no, it's beautiful

_1000wonHOE_ : Def u high? Were can I get sopm?

> [comment deleted]
> 
> _1000wonHOE_ : BOI!!! WRONG ACC
> 
> _PikaJooheon_ : shit, nuttin 2 c here folks

Scrolling through, he chuckled softly. They weren't bad pictures when all was said and done.

There were a few messages from Jinyoung on KKT, sent long after Jaebeom had passed out.

_Jinyoung0922_ : Hyung, I asked around and got some feedback.

 _Jinyoung0922_ : They're good songs. Everyone was impressed with how polished they were, especially when I told them it had only taken you a week. ^^

 _Jinyoung0922_ : There are concerns about my image though.

 _Jinyoung0922_ : Maybe we can talk some on Tuesday or Wednesday if it's not too inconvenient?

Grinning like an idiot he typed his reply.

_jBeom(^. . ^ )ノ_ : srry, JY-ah

jBeom _(^. . ^ )ノ_ : passed out las night

 _jBeom(^. . ^ )ノ_ : Tues is fine I got 1 class

With a big gaping yawn, Jaebeom rolled out of bed and crawled into the bathroom. He quickly brushed his teeth and splashed some water on his face to really wake up. Then he crawled right back into the covers, pulling his laptop and headset with him. Jaebeom hummed softly as he sorted through the pictures in his cache, picking out the ones good enough to go into his portfolio. He hissed softly when he saw that he'd forgotten to scan his landscape photos from the previous week. He'd have to borrow BamBam's if he didn't want to walk all the way into school on a Sunday.

It felt almost strange to be focusing on photography again. Lately, most of his school work had become just that - school work - in lieu of all this business with Jinyoung. It was hard not to be sucked into the idol-actor's neck-breaking pace. More than just the whole youtube thing, Jinyoung's life seemed to move at a speed completely beyond him. Just when Jaebeom had finished musing something over, he popped up again already inexplicably halfway through the next step in the process. On top of the fact that things in his chest spun like tops every time a KKT notification popped up, and Jaebeom was getting used to exhaustion teasing the edge of his mind.

Debating whether or not he should shake BamBam out of whatever Saturday night regrets the boy may have garnered, his phone beeped again: another KKT message.

_Jinyoung0922_ : Hyung, did you just wake up? How do you type worse than my 3-year-old dongsaeng? = =

Jaebeom couldn't help the sharp bark of laughter that escaped him. He'd freaked out when Jinyoung first messaged him like this and spent hours wondering how to reply, all the while deeply regretting that he decided to use his personal account instead of the professional one. And then Jinyoung had, in picture-perfect grammar and spelling - Jaebeom's old compositions professor would have _cried_ \- asked about the cat emoji in his user ID.

jBeom _(^. . ^ )ノ_ : I thouhgt u sed he was giant?

 _Jinyoung0922_ : He is both. He is a giant 3-year-old. = =

jBeom _(^. . ^ )ノ_ : Not Jacksn?

 _Jinyoung0922_ : Jackson is 5.

jBeom _(^. . ^ )ノ_ : ㅋㅋㅋㅋ

 _Jinyoung0922_ : My break is over now, hyung, have a nice day.

jBeom _(^. . ^ )ノ_ : byyye~

Tapping out of the app, Jaebeom hovered over his phone, idly checking his other social media. Maybe he should go use the school's scanner after all. It had higher fidelity and could do multiple photos at a time. He could even pick up some food along the way, BamBam having notably forgotten to go grocery shopping again this week. Maybe some nice crispy chicken from his favorite place by the tiny print shop, fried piping hot in front of your face and then drenched with sweet but burning red pepper sauce delicious both on the chicken and by itself on equally scalding white rice.

Jaebeom had a swanky new job now, he could afford a treat.

He was dragged out of his thoughts by pounding synthetic percussion. Jaebeom fumbled, nearly dropping his vibrating phone as he blinked rapidly at the caller ID, shaken from the logical impossibility that Min Yoongi was, in fact, _calling him_.

"Y-Yoongi-hyung?" Jaebeom said, gingerly tapping the speakerphone so he could hear more clearly. "Did something happen?"

A pause.

"Why do you think something happened, Def? Can't I call just to check in once in a while?" Yoongi's cool monotone drifted up, tinged with the bustle of people. In the background, Jaebeom could hear two distinct voices laughing.

"Hyung, the last time you legit called me, you thought someone kidnapped Holly." Jaebeom said, "before that, it was because they forced you to on a variety show."

"And you didn't get my hints at all."

"I - how was I supposed to know your favorite food was lamb skewers. When has that ever come up?"

"Yeah, yeah," Yoongi grumbled trailing off into something under his breath, "...anyways, have you been doing anything new lately? New projects? Plans?"

Jaebeom sighed. This is what it always came down to with Yoongi, and maybe that was the reason why their relationship worked best when Jaebeom had the cool glass veneer of texting to hide behind.

It's not that Jaebeom wasn't grateful. Yoongi lived and breathed music, and for a long time, he had taken Jaebeom beneath his wing, believed in him even when Jaebeom didn't believe in himself. Jaebeom sank into the underground as deeply as he did partly to explore his own developing abilities, but also partly because he was chasing Yoongi's near frictionless glide to the center of it. Even when Jaebeom plateaued, lost the stars in his eyes and hit the ceiling of his creative capacity, Yoongi's faith in him had remained, settled firmly on his shoulders, staunch and unwavering.

It was crushing, sometimes.

Mild-mannered temperate Namjoon had been ultimately understanding of Jaebeom's reluctance to pursue music full time. He perhaps didn't agree, a furrow in his brow when Jaebeom told him for the first time, but he let Jaebeom walk away with a pat on the back and no hard feelings. After the first few years or so, he stopped pushing Jaebeom about new projects or samples.

Yoongi was different.

"Jaebeom-ah?" Yoongi's said. "You still there?"

"Sorry, hyung," Jaebeom said quickly, "it was...something on my end. I'm back now. I'm not doing that much music-wise, not really. Working on something for a friend but you know I don't post much anymore. At least not much new stuff."

"I see," Yoongi said. He took a long breath, audible even over the hum and din of the crowd. "That friend of yours, he wouldn't be a certain Park Jinyoung, would he?"

Jaebeom froze.

"How...did you know?"

"Our guys hung out with him about a week ago. Your man's been asking around. Just thought you'd like to know."

-o-

"Jinyoungie!" Hoseok wrapped his arms tightly around Jinyoung the moment he stepped down from the car. "You made it! You son of a devil, you _actually_ made it."

"Oh, I don't know." Jinyoung said patting his old partner on the shoulder, first playfully, but then harder in a vain effort to get him to let go, "I could probably still run up on the roof and throw myself off, who knows."

"Oh hush that, you morbid, morbid creature," the rapper chided clapping him around the face with fuzzy mittens, "stop acting like he's gonna bite your head off. It's just Yoongi. Listen to hyung and be on your best behavior."

"Yeah well, he's biased. And since when were you my hyung?" Jinyoung muttered under his breath. Nevertheless, he let himself be dragged to a different car, waving to the tired looking Lucky7 manager as he packed himself, coat and all into a corner of the backseat. Hoseok clambered in next to him, still warm from his quick rinse off shower and dressed in sleek skinny jeans and one of his ever-present hoodies. Jinyoung hoped wherever they were going it had a decent heater. Hoseok was going to be shivering in about an hour. He probably hadn't thought to grab an extra sweater either. "So wanna tell me anything before the great reckoning?"

"Nope, I'm gonna let him maul you on sight," Hoseok said with a wide beaming grin. "I'm kidding, Jesus! Don't look at me like that. You two remind me so much of each other _honestly_ , you're all prickly on the outside. You're gonna love him."

"I am not prickly." Hoseok laughed in his face.

"Sure, sure, now unclench, you're not comfortable like this."

They pulled up on a narrow alleyway on a street so cramped the huge company van was in kissing space of just about everything else. The manager only stopped for long enough to let Jinyoung and Hoseok to thread themselves through the inches of walking room beside it. In the alley, a figured in all black lounged idly against the alley wall like a phantom through the falling snow. Behind his cloth face mask, the only suggestions that he was human were his pale fingertips and two sharp dark eyes. When he looked up, they landed not on Hoseok, but Jinyoung.

"Yoongi-Hyung!" Hoseok enveloped the other boy in a pink fleecy hug, and Jinyoung was forced to notice that, _The_ Min Yoongi was actually quite a bit shorter than he would have thought. Yoongi's long pale fingers came up to find an awkward grip on Hoseok's blue hoodie. "Hi."

"Hey," Yoongi croaked, low tones sounding rough around the edges. Could be strain, was probably strain. Jinyoung has been there enough times.

"Hyung, this is my twin," despite staying wrapped around Yoongi, Hoseok managed to twist back to indicate Jinyoung. Fortunately, his hoodie was loose enough to obscure his body, Maybe Jinyoung could go the night without dinner lurching to more than maybe 2 grotesque contortions. "Jinyoung, meet BTS's Min Yoongi-hyung."

"Nice to meet you, I'm Park Jinyoung." Jinyoung smiled, but it was empty, a placating gesture that failed to crease the corners of his eyes.

"Min Yoongi."

 _Oh_ , it was going to be a long night.

The silence between them stretched taut and overworked. Even if you were to cut it now, its threads would be warped and unrecognizable. 30 feet away from them, Hoseok played around with some of BTS's younger members on an old DDR machine. The four of them seemed to draw on the same inexplicable pool of energy that Jinyoung wished he had access to. Instead, he's stuck with frigidly silent Yoongi taking casual sips of oolong tea, wondering if - when drunk - all the flashing lights and sounds at the little arcade bar had ever given anyone epilepsy.

Beside him, Yoongi snapped a rice cracker in half between his teeth.

"You don't like me very much," Jinyoung blinked, brain not quite registering that Yoongi had spoken, "do you, Park Jinyoung?"

Jinyoung rolled his answer on his tongue for a while with his tea. "I do not dislike you, sunbaenim. Nor have I any reason to."

"You can cut the crap, Jinyoung-ah," Yoongi said with a sharp bark of laughter, "I'm good at sniffing out hostiles."

Jinyoung squashed the impulse to snort in his face. "I wouldn't call it...hostility per se. If I have been cold to you, I do deeply apologize. It is not about you in particular."

Yoongi shook his head, a slight grin pulling at the edge of his mouth.

"Don't." He said. "Look, I'm not mad or anything. It's kind of cute, actually. I'm just curious. What about me's got you so off your game, Jinyoung-ah? Jungkook tells me you're the laughing type. At friends, at rivals...at enemies. But you haven't laughed once since you stepped off that car."

"Would that not, then, imply that you are none of those things, sunbaenim?" Jinyoung said, leaning back against the bar, keeping his eyes peeled on the DDR machine. Yoongi's expression didn't budge, even as he gestured for Jinyoung to keep going. "I already said that I didn't dislike you. Hoseok may look overly friendly, but he's got a hound's nose for good character. His introducing you to me at all is already the highest possible proof of your integrity. There is no room for reproach."

Yoongi nodded, finally taking a swig of his own drink, a foreign beer Jinyoung's never tried. His ghostly smile had fallen from his face, leaving behind a flat unreadable mouth.

"I know your story you know," he said. "Not through Hoseok in case you were wondering. Your little trainee buddies - the tall one and the Australian - are gossips. You should keep a lid on them. Even if they don't mention any names, anyone paying attention to the public space could have put it together."

"I'll consider it."

"Good," Yoongi said, "Taking that into account, I was sure I wouldn't be seeing you for a while, another half year, maybe more. It's hard getting shoved out of your own wheelhouse, I've known people. Normally I wouldn't care, you understand, but Hobi likes you."

Jinyoung hummed and took another dainty sip of tea.

"I figured you'd come around eventually, "Yoongi continued, "once, you'd settle whatever mental shit you got, you'd come around. You're not the flagging type. You can't be, even by your own standards. We just had to keep asking."

"So then why do you insist something is wrong, sunbaenim? According to you, you were expecting me." Jinyoung turned on the spinning stool to face Yoongi. After another long pull of beer, the older boy did the same.

"Because here, you're the one asking after _us_ ," Yoongi folded his hands on his lap and leaned slightly forward, no so much that he was in Jinyoung's space, but just enough that the black of his clothes blocked him out against his surroundings in a grim gaunt shadow, "us, knowing Hobi would take it to mean _me_. So what's the stitch, Jinyoung-ah. What's gotten you to grit your teeth and meet up with me before we were both ready for it?"

For the first time that night, Jinyoung laughed softly. Hoseok was right. Were they not so at odds Jinyoung would have liked Yoongi. He's not sure he doesn't _now_ , watching the changes of light in Yoongi's hawk eyes as he forced the older musician to take around and around to catch him. Yoongi was such a man of detail, impossibly meticulous. How much more did he know?

"And from your conjecture?" The laugh has left a smile on his face - not wide, not in public - but just enough that Jinyoung felt the way his mouth pull up at the corners.

Across from him, Yoongi quirked one dyed eyebrow.

"You're a bit of a twisted little shit aren't you?" The rapper sighed. "Perfect, just perfect. You know exactly what I'm asking Jinyoung-ah. You want something from me, and for the life of me, I can't figure what. So I thought I'd save you the trouble of dragging it out on your own sweet time."

Jinyoung dissolved into another quiet giggle, just loud enough to tempt Hoseok's gaze back to them. His other J was smiling, but his eyes were wide in alarm, even after both Jinyoung and Yoongi waved him back to his game. He couldn't possibly hope to beat hyper-competitive Jungkook without his full attention. The youngest BTS member was a near carbon copy of Yugyeom. Put shoulder to shoulder, they looked like a pair of grinning evil twins. Hoseok had a right handful to contend with.

Yoongi's finger tapping on the counter pulled Jinyoung's attention back to him.

"Well?"

Figuring that enough was enough, Jinyoung shook his head in mock disapproval, "Ah, this sunbae, I was going to wait for our fourth hangout, or at the very least our third. Just so you know, sunbaenim. You're the one making me into an impolite brat."

"I like to think of it as skipping the unpleasantries."

"You could call it that, couldn't you?" Jinyoung said without commitment. "What can you tell me about a certain DefSoul?"

The atmosphere froze the moment Yoongi's beer mug clacked down on the countertop.

"Who wants to know?" Yoongi's voice had done a full 180, becoming curt and sharp with some new growl in it that carried more than a little hint of teeth.

But Jinyoung's shoulders remained relaxed, easily sloped as he took a resting breath.

What did he want with Im Jaebeom?

He hadn't had the chance to think as much about it in more concrete terms. Realistically, he hadn't thought he'd get much out of Yoongi at all - a fairly inapproachable man as far as idols went - so really anything would have been appreciated. That was still essentially true. Yoongi didn't sound like he was in the mood for any more games. Jinyoung would have to prioritize.

"As a business partner," Jinyoung said at last, "In terms of working on a continual effort rather than a single project, say the continual running and maintaining of a new Youtube channel."

"And what," Yoongi sneered at him, and if Jinyoung didn't recognize the forceful response, he might have even been offended, "makes you think he'd want to work with an idol much less _you_. You've heard his discography, haven't you? You're not exactly gonna make waves in the underground, Jinyoung-ah - no offense - and he's not exactly broadcast appropriate."

Despite everything, it was really kind of cute. Jinyoung could practically see any goodwill he might have won from their previous verbal duel evaporate off of Yoongi's face. One wrong move and Jinyoung had no doubt he would find himself snapped up and torn apart by the snarling guardian wolf. Part of him wants to do it. Poke and prod and see if he could pull away fast enough.

But today Jinyoung had a purpose, and he fully knew that the only reason Yoongi hadn't shut him down entirely, was his close association with Hoseok.

"He'd _better_ work with me," Jinyoung said delicately picking his way through the bared fangs. "He's the one who convinced me to go for it."

"In one night?"

"Oh no, we met up after that," Jinyoung shrugged as he saw Yoongi's brows furrow, just a split second looking more confused than angry. He struggled to keep the amusement out of his face and voice. The way his eyes gleamed were probably telling Yoongi enough as it was. "It's not that weird, sunbaenim. Did you know we go to the same school? We even know the same group of people, and he works downtown really close to the new JYPE building. It's actually weirder that I haven't run into him before."

Yoongi's gaze was still sharp, but he nodded stiffly. Jinyoung took that as a cue to keep going.

"So, I need to know how much I can bet on him, how much I can risk," Jinyoung said, the humor finally dropping from his voice. "I need to know if I'll be mostly flying solo and he'll be just another producer, or if I can lean on him as a full partner, and the degree to which that is possible. For that, I need to know who he is. Not as Im Jaebeom, but as Defsoul."

Yoongi's eyes closed and the older musician let out a long hissing breath.

"Bartender-nim!" He barked, "Could you get us a round of Kamikazes?"

"Could you change mine to a White Rose instead?" Jinyoung offered an apologetic smile Yoongi looked at him tiredly from the side. "Sorry hyung, I'm really not good with stronger drinks. And I have a commercial shoot at 5 tomorrow."

"Whatever," Yoongi grumbled. He didn't protest when Jinyoung pulled his wallet out to pay.

With their drinks in hand Yoongi seemed to breathe easier, even the way he looked at Jinyoung was less fierce and more thoughtful.

"First, I need to know why you decided on Jaebeom, of all people," Yoongi said, "even if he talked you into it, you're at the big leagues over there in JYP. You could have gotten anyone. Your boy's on SoundCloud too isn't he?"

"I wouldn't say it's one reason in particular," Jinyoung said, "Yugyeom's got himself to focus on. He's talented, but he and Chan didn't make it this cycle. They'll have to regroup and make the next one. They've both got about as much side experience as a trainee could have by this point, there's no reason for them to tag along behind me. The producers are - simply put- above my paygrade, especially since most of them don't consider me an idol in the first place. I need someone working from at least ground zero."

"You're implying Jaebeom's better."

"I am...because he is." Jinyoung turned his glass in his hand, watching the layer of cream swirl into the lovely pink of the rosewater liqueur. "He still remembers me as a dancer, all the way from the Bounce days. Did you know he was a fan?"

Yoongi took a long draught of his antisceptic smelling drink.

"I didn't," Yoongi mumbled under his breath.

Jinyoung nodded to show he heard. "His music style, I can contend with. I've been told I'm quite flexible, and it's got a kick to it I like - more than enough to take it in lieu of everything else he represents. Really, I'm almost afraid he's too perfect for the job."

"So you just need me to confirm what you already know?"

"Somewhat...and to vouch for his productivity."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Yoongi dropped his empty glass and ordered another. He drank so well, Jinyoung was barely halfway through his one glass.

"It means that I'm worried I might run into something I'm not prepared for," Jinyoung said evenly, "it means I saw how prolific he was just a scant two years ago. It means I saw the well drying up pretty abruptly and I'd like - not an explanation perhaps, that's too intrusive for now - but an honest forewarning. If it's just getting into his honors program got in the way..."

"It's not," Yoongi said, "In fact, I think you, in particular, might be interested in the story."

-o-

"So...now he knows?" Jaebeom said softly.

"Only as much as he needed to," Yoongi said, "don't worry, I gave him about as glowing a review as I could."

And by that, Yoongi meant as glowing as was honest. Someone else might have pitched up in his favor, embellished a little. Yoongi didn't deal in bullshit.

But that had been a week ago, and Jinyoung still ran down to catch him on Saturday, still gushed over his sample and emailed him an official contract for JYPE.

"Thanks, hyung," he said softly.

"Hope you like the new job, Def, you deserve it."

"I do, hyung, I really do, thanks."

He was _definitely_ getting chicken today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see? there's a reason for that "BTS ensemble" tag...kinda lol
> 
> as always please drop R&R and if you feel like talking drop by me @Thiefywoods on Twitter


	12. Getting Down to Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> is harder than either of them would have thought. Even puzzle pieces meant to fit don't always go exactly together.

Jaebeom probably thought he was being subtle but it was almost impossible to miss those furtive sidelong glances he's been taking at Jinyoung's back for the last hour an a half. It was surprisingly more annoying than any unabashed staring Jinyoung's caught him at before...somehow.

"So, as I was saying the pre-chorus might be a little too much with the background synth, at least for now, even if we've changed it up a bit it's still pretty...sensual, you know?" Jinyoung said, "and I do kind of miss the electric guitar."

"Yeah," Jaebeom mumbled, eyes resolutely glued to the screen when Jinyoung actually turned to face him. "it sounds weird with the guitar though, at least if we're gonna put it back in with these new percussions."

They weren't getting anywhere fast and Jinyoung was starting to wonder if maybe he should have been less obstinate about his first video. He didn't even have a real concept yet.

With a sigh he sat down on Jaebeom's bed and propped his chin on folded fingers, trying to kick his brain back into gear.

...And maybe it would help if Jaebeom wanted to _say something instead of pretending not to look at him **again**_. If he did that **_one more time_** Jinyoung was going to blow a fuse!

"Do you want to take a break hyung? Just a bit," he said quickly, trying not to come off as too annoyed. Blowing up at his channel producer wasn't going to help anything. "We've been at this for three hours."

Three hours in which they've done basically nothing. Jinyoung shouldn't have insisted on coming over. They could have worked over voice chat or something; he's done it before for minor script fixes. It couldn't have been that hard. Jaebeom's room, as cozy as it was the first time, was definitely too small to accommodate two people while Jaebeom was in his creative space. Jinyoung couldn't even sit on the bed without a quick look out of the corner of Jaebeom's eye. He'd probably be able to concentrate twenty times better if Jinyoung was removed from the picture.

"But, you have to leave in a bit, right?" Jaebeom said, spinning around in his chair.

"Yeah, sorry, hyung." Jinyoung sighed. "I wish I was more helpful."

"No it's..." Jinyoung pressed his lips into a thin line, somewhat not quite glaring at Jaebeom, "...look, we have a general list of what you don't want now, right? That's something."

It didn't feel like anything.

Jinyoung was dragged out of his silent fuming my a warm hand on his shoulder.

"On second thought, I think you're right," Jaebeom said taking his hand back and twiddling his fingers in his lap once he'd gotten Jinyoung's attention, "let's take a little break. Trying to rush things won't help. Maybe we could walk down to get something? A little fresh air might do us both some good. Some ideas just need time and breathing space, you know?"

Jinyoung smiled sardonically. "Personal experience, hyung?"

"You have no idea."

They opened the door to a bone-deep chill, the kind that didn't bite at you like it might on the wind, but that kind of sat on your body and pressed down. It wasn't cold enough for the snow to have properly settled in yet in Seoul, and it lay melting into piles of gray slush on the sidewalk.

Jaebeom insisted on jumping into, kicking at, or dragging his old gray sneakers through every last one in his path with a scrunched up mousy grin on his face that made his eyes disappear into slits. Jinyoung should really take the time to walk with Jaebeom more often. It was hilarious.

"You're going to get sick, hyung," Jinyoung said as he picked his way through the cleared path Jaebeom left behind, careful not to get anything on his faux leather boots. Despite that, he had a smile every bit as bright as Jaebeom's. "Look at how wet your pants are getting."

Jaebeom huffed and twisted his face into a mocking scowl except. The corners of his mouth and set of his brows shook with the effort. "Yah, have more faith in your hyung, it's just a little water."

"Every drop of river water has worn away stone." Jinyoung recited, fighting his own face into a serene expression and pretending to stroke an imaginary beard.

They dissolved into laughter at the same time.

But it wasn't like that time that the convenience store where the laugh had emptied him out and left him hollow and reckless. Today, even as he fell back into step with Jaebeom, there was a peculiar weight lodged in Jinyoung's chest, so oddly familiar that he hadn't quite noticed when it appeared.

-o-

There had been a strange atmosphere between them all day. At first, it seemed like it was his fault. He still didn't quite know what to do with what Yoongi had told him about Jinyoung exploring his online handle. It wasn't...wrong per se. It's not like the information wasn't out there for anyone to see. It just felt odd, like the prickle on your skin when strangers are pushed up against you nose-to-nose on the train, too close, too personal even though it really wasn't. Several times, Jaebeom had to resist the urge to shrink into his desk or his pillow and curl up in a ball.

But that wasn't it. There was a different mood to Jinyoung today, something harsher in his face and voice, something more intense in the dark of his gaze.

It was a little terrifying.

It was _a lot_ terrifying.

Jaebeom was brought up in a traditional family, he lived honorifics and deflective speech, and his parents had impressed on his early that when in doubt, be polite.

He just might have to rethink those tenents when dealing with Jinyoung.

There's a bent to Jinyoung's politeness this afternoon that was a little too frigid and a little too dismissive, a tone that made his pleases and thank yous come out like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. When Jinyoung sat with his legs crossed and his hands primly folded in his lap like a picture perfect little chaebol staring a hole into his rug, Jaebeom had to do something.

"Maybe we could walk down to get something? A little fresh air might do us both some good. Some ideas just need time and breathing space, you know?"

He thanked the stars that Jinyoung agreed easily.

Once outside of Jaebeom's little makeshift studio, Jinyoung visibly settled down. The rapid drop in tension honestly made Jaebeom a little light headed as they scrambled for their coats and gloves. The snow was just the icing on the questionable decision cake.

As all relatively robust children in a semi-northern climate, young Jaebeom loved playing in the snow. Even though it took Seoul a bit longer for the frozen drops to turn powdery white and crunch satisfyingly underfoot, Jaebeom sometimes kicked a little at the slush even when it was soppy.

Beside him, he heard a muffled giggle coming from behind Jinyoung's thick wool scarf. Jinyoung had turned his head slightly away but with Jaebeom's electrified nerves on high alert from the past three hours, he couldn't have missed it.

Jaebeom kicked at another slush puddle, and, again, he heard that tiny little puff of laughter.

It suited him beautifully.

After that, he went out of his way to jump into them and splash around in the slush as he watched Jinyoung's face light up more and more until his adorable eye crinkles remained between laughs and Jinyoung's face emerged from his scarf, with his mouth wide and grinning so hard his makeup left creases where his grin pulled at it.

He was so beautiful.

Despite his heart palpitating at dangerous speeds, Jaebeom thought he really could get used to this.

By the time they decided to stop, the cuffs of his jeans were soaked through and his feet were freezing. Incidentally, that went perfectly with their food of choice.

There was nothing like hearty stewed fish cakes on a cold day. Every year once the first snow fell, red-faced vendors with their steaming vats of rich broth appeared en masse, one on every street corner. For a couple thousand won, you could get yourself a bowl of springy salty fish cakes with all their toppings and sweet slow-cooked vegetables only barely holding their shape. The radishes were always Jaebeom's favorite, big white flavor sponges that soaked up all the goodness of everything else and crammed it all into one satisfying bite. He always ate one first and the other last, to open and close his meal out well.

Across from him though, Jinyoung had a much more structured method to eating his stew, carefully picking out all the reconstituted green vegetables, little snow peas, and dried green beans, digging through his bowl and rescuing each them from all the little crevices. Then he moved on the root vegetables, the carrots and yams, and Jaebeom's favorite radishes, cutting each round in half with his chopsticks. Then he ate all the fish cakes and thick chewy rice noodles piece by piece. Finally, he dug into his block of tofu with a careful spoon, suspending each bit in spoonfuls of broth until all he had left was one big long draught of warm soup.

"Why...do you pick it apart like that?" Jaebeom found himself asking before he meant to. He winced when he realized what he'd said. "Sorry I didn't mean it weird or anything."

But Jinyoung shook his head, looking for all the world unfazed.

"The tofu stays hot the longest, silly. You guys in Seoul always seem to have it in that big fat block. In Jinhae, we have the broken silken tofu, so I eat it a lot sooner with the greens. Imagine if I left the peas behind they'd get cold in seconds."

"The point is to eat it all before it gets cold though," Jaebeom said. "I could have eaten three bowls in the time you took to keep your tofu hot."

"Hyung, I can't eat three bowls." Jinyoung said clicking his tongue. "you know fish cakes aren't even real fish, they're mostly starch proteins and butcher scraps."

Jaebeom hummed, beneath his breath, nodding without commitment. "It's healthier than ramen."

"Ah ramen, of course, the absolute standard of healthy eating."

"You are so much nicer when you're on a photo card..." Jaebeom stopped short to really think about those words. In a way it was true, Jinyoung, Junior was a much nicer person trapped in pictures and video screens, cleaned up and polished to a glimmering shine. He didn't have the freakishly demanding business face, the sometimes suffocating presence, the drastic mood shifts.

Jaebeom saw the moment when Jinyoung' expression softened from biting humor into something a little more subdued.

"I know, I get that a lot," Jinyoung said.

Not knowing what to say Jaebeom stared down at the bowl between his hands. The hastily set up little plastic table was so small that there was only a paper-thin gap between their hands. On impulse, Jaebeom slipped his hand into Jinyoung's and laced their fingers together.

"Well," he said with a small laugh, "it takes a little bit to get used to higher quality footage sometimes."

And there it was again, that tiny puff of a laugh.

"Wow hyung, I'm impressed. I haven't heard anything that corny in years," Jinyoung said clicking his tongue like an old grandma but his eyes have crinkled again, think whiskers feathering out at the corners of his eyes. "You should stop watching bad teen dramas."

"Then you stop acting in them."

Nevertheless, Jinyoung gave Jaebeom's hand a gentle squeeze before pulling him up to return their bowls to the vendor. They didn't let go until Park Joon's sleek black car rounded the street corner.

-o-

Jinyoung took a deep breath as he braced his hand on the long wooden bar and raised one foot out behind him. He bent back as far as possible to grab the crown of his foot with one hand, holding the stretch until the ache is just on the bearable side. Relaxing, he switched sides and repeated the stretch, pulling out the tensions in his muscles until they felt a little looser and less wound up. Abandoning the balance bar, he slowly eased himself down into side splits and held it for just as long, before dropping his legs down in almost an exact straight line on the floor bowing over first one side, then the other to stretch his back and arm muscles.

He always tried to get to his practice blocks early, that tiny sliver of time between when the janitor left and when the trainees arrived. Stretching alone was nice, almost meditative when there was nothing to pay attention to but how he moved and breathed.

It gave him time to process things.

Someone once said only a fool does the same thing over and over and expects a different result. It's a saying that Jinyoung took to heart and for the most part, it served him well. Being the youngest of three kids Jinyoung was naturally made to bend. Their eldest, Boyoung was especially the domineering type, and Jinyoung learned early to always keep to her good side. Sooyoung, mellower tempered and softer spoken, was nevertheless tireless when she insisted upon something, and it was only that much easier if Jinyoung worked around her rather than through her. It had been just as easy, just as seamless to transition into idolhood. When there was a mold to fill, Jinyoung could and would fill it.

And maybe that was the problem.

His usual directors, accomplished professionals with twice his years in their work, had always given him exact guidelines, ideas, and concepts. Even when he tutored the little ones or cameoed on Jae's videos, they knew exactly what they wanted, and all Jinyoung had to do was function as a seamless moving part in their design.

Jaebeom didn't work like that at all. When Jinyoung offered opinions, he didn't take it into consideration and proceed according to his own ideas, he turned around and asked for how and why. Asked Jinyoung to help make a container instead of filling it and Jinyoung, hadn't prepared for that.

But he should have.

It was obvious in hindsight and Jinyoung could have slapped himself. At least he knew now what he should work towards. He should be working harder anyways instead of forcing Jaebeom to carry the project like that.

It was fine. If there was one thing Jinyoung could always do, it was work harder.

By now other trainees have trickled in and Jinyoung had swept himself off to a corner, letting his juniors carve up the practice floor chunk by chunk to begin their work. Yugyeom was still nowhere to be found.

Jinyoung frowned and cut off his music.

Yugyeom could be late for 20,000 things, but dance practice wasn't one of them.

Maybe it was time he took a couple minutes break.

Throwing his hoodie back on, he weaved through the trainees and slipped out into the corridor, empty save for the occasional assistant rushing papers between departments. He only had to turn the corner to find Yugyeom fiddling with the strap of the duffle bag over his shoulders, being talked at by two very familiar faces.

"Jimin-ah, Yerin-ah, it's been a while," Jinyoung said.

"Jinyoung-Oppa," Yerin said, turning to face him, "there you are. We were looking for you."

"Is that so?" Jinyoung said. "Is that why you've accosted my spotter for the afternoon?"

"Oh oppa, don't be stingy," Jimin said, digging an elbow into his arm, "Gyeomie's one of our back-up dancers for this promotion cycle. We have more right to bug him than you do."

Jinyoung acquiesced with a laugh. He couldn't win against smirking Jimin, who always made him feel like he was talking to a miniature version of Boyoung. 15& had debuted around the same time he had Hoseok had and for a while the two duos were treated like twin halves of one group, appearing everywhere together. Like Jinyoung, they were still under Joon's care.

Jimin was the headstrong type, the kind that made mothers shake their heads but smile behind their hands. You could almost see her running around with scraped knees and elbows, jabbing pushy boys in the ribs. For this promotion cycle, she'd gone back to her natural dark brown hair cut with blunt bangs across her forehead that made her apple cheeks look even pinker and more pinch-worthy. Beside Jimin, Yerin's jet black hair parted down the middle to frame her tapered face made her look like a perfect little lady: mature, but gentle and soft, with just the slightest hint of sharpness in the corners of her eyes. Their smiles though were smug spoiled little things that hadn't changed even over the years.

Jinyoung adored them.

"Don't damage the merchandise, Jimin-ah," he poked her in the cheek. "Your poor oppa still needs to make an honest living off this body."

"There is nothing honest about Jinyoung-oppa." Jimin snickered. Yerin brought one hand to cover her mouth, but her eyes laughed evilly along.

Jinyoung shook his head with a dramatic sigh. "Aish what are these unladylike ghouls who've stolen my adorable little dongsaeng?"

"What do you mean stolen? They've been like this." Yugyeom muttered under his breath, but even his mouth was twitching up into a cheeky grin. Jimin rewarded him with an elbow in the ribs too.

"Anyways," Jinyoung said, "why were you two looking for me?"

The girls both fell silent, side-eyeing each other.

Jinyoung and Hoseok used to be like that, so familiar they could read each other's faces at a glance. Now, they were nearly three years out of practice, and he and Jinyoung have both changed. Now that JYPE was preparing them to go into solo work for real, would the same thing happen to these two?

"You've heard about our final concert, right? It's only open to fan club members so...well you know how that goes. You don't have to come if you're busy," Yerin said carefully, "but Oppa if you have free time, we reserved some tickets for you and Hoseok-oppa. Of course, we forgot that he'll be in Japan by then."

"So that means you get two," Jimin's voice was strangely subdued when she pulled the envelope from her purse, eyes dimmed to a much gentler glow, "there's no point wasting a good ticket."

Jinyoung reached past the tickets and took Jimin's hand, then Yerin's, stilling the slight tremors that ran through their fingers. "Thank you, I'll make good use of them."

He bid the girls good-bye, vision blurring a little as he looked down at the unassuming envelope. He hadn't dared get misty-eyed with them around. For once, Yugyeom kept an amiable silence as they walked to the practice room together. When Jinyoung looked at him, he only readjusted his shoulder bags and shrugged, a dopey but knowing smile on his face.

"Hey, I'm going to snatch up one of the empty studios tonight to fiddle around," Jinyoung said, "come sleep when you're tired. I'll beg Joon-hyung to pick us both up in the morning."

"Sure hyung," Yugyeom said. "I'll be moving to an individual room at like 10 to concert prep so if you promise not to hit me, you can come down whenever you feel like yelling at a mirror."


	13. Bibbidi Bobbidi Oop!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jinyoung really hates admins sometimes

He was with Mark and Jackson when it happened.

Jinyoung was lucky he didn't have to witness the infuriating back and forth mating dance of their friends. Ever since he'd gotten back from Singapore with two gleaming gold medals for Mark to kiss as a part of some strange bet Jaebeom didn't want to know about, Jackson Wang had become something of a permanent fixture in the dark room.

Jaebeom was perfectly happy for them. Mark deserved someone to bring the high pitched screeching laugh out of him that Jaebeom had rarely been able to, even when they were awkwardly picking through a first-time relationship.

That didn't mean it wasn't annoying to be forced to quietly pitter around with his laptop editing photos just so he could look busy and not pathetically single every day when Jackson inevitably followed them to lunch. There were times Jaebeom had contemplated texting various people to call him off, but even he wasn't that petty. They were having fun. It's not their fault they're insufferable.

That was when _it_ came.

_It_ being his first legitimate phone call from one Park Jinyoung.

Jaebeom stared at his phone as the tinny KKT ringtone shrieked at him. Mark had to slap him across the back of the head to snap him out of it in time to pick up on the 4th and final ring.

"Jaebeom-hyung?"

"Jinyoung-ah?" Jaebeom rasped like his voice box was broken. Beside him Jackson perked up, taking notice of Jaebeom for the first time in half an hour. He leaned over, probably to yell over the speaker, but Jaebeom and Mark both pinched him on the side. Jackson cried like a wounded animal, collapsing theatrically on the table.

"Was that Jackson? Did I catch you at a bad time? I can call again later."

"No!" Jaebeom said too quickly. "I mean, _yes_ , that was Jackson. But _no_ , I'm free to chat. We're out of class, getting lunch actually. Jackson's just being Jackson. It's fine. Mark'll mind him."

Jinyoung chuckled, low and smooth over the speaker. "Ah, of course, he is. Alright then, I was just wondering if you might be free next Saturday. Well, next Saturday evening anyways. You have work in the morning right? And I've got a vocal class too."

"Yeah," Jaebeom said he turned away to find some semblance of privacy from the two idiots who'd gotten into some kind of strange tickle fight, "did you want to work on the track some more?"

"Well, not _exactly_. I was wondering if you'd like to go out instead." Jaebeom's heart stopped completely, seizing up before it pushed itself into hyperrhythmia for daring to hope he hadn't misheard. His tongue turned to lead in his mouth. "I don't know if you like JYPE as a whole that much, but I happened on a couple of 15& tickets, backstage passes and all. I thought since we seem to meet a lot on Saturday anyway, maybe you'd like to make a night of it. Concert, dinner, you know, the works."

"I...of course, that-that sounds great." So much more than great, really. Fanciful? Outrageous? Delusional? "See you next Saturday?"

"Alright then, I have to go now so I'll let you eat, bye hyung."

"Bye." Jaebeom waved a hand lamely in front of himself having forgotten that Jinyoung couldn't actually see him.

Like a trigger as soon as he said good-bye, Mark automatically lost his grip on Jackson who ran all the way around the table to shove his eerily wide grin into Jaebeom's face. He said nothing, letting his expectant sparkling eyes do the all talking.

"Stop!" Jaebeom groused at him, shoving the athlete away. "It's nothing, he just got free concert tickets."

" _Free tickets!!!_ And he didn't invite _me!_ " Jackson shrieked. "He invited _you_! Whom he barely met two months ago, instead of his poor suffering roommate who's taken good care of him for two years. Wow, Jaebeom-hyung sure does work fast."

"I'm not _working_ anything," Jaebeom said without any heat, "I don't even remember letting you call me hyung by the way, you just started doing it. Besides, he probably can't invite you. There's one extra ticket and you have my best friend attached to your damn hip."

Nothing he said prevented Jackson from talking of nothing else all through lunch, each word causing more and more violent palpitations to run through the Jaebeom's poor chest until he shoved Jackson back at a still smirking Mark and hurried to his next class.

It took a few hours and a mind-numbing economics class he'd been more or less forced to take, but Jaebeom's brain slowly reclaimed control and cooled his heart back down.

He was being dumb. Jinyoung just wanted to hang-out for a night and have fun. They were friends, kind of. That's what friends did. His life must be incredibly stressful, things piling on top of each other, always moving from work to work. It's natural that he'd want to take a Saturday off now and again, and he knew for a fact that Jaebeom had his Saturday evenings freed up to work on their track. He shouldn't get ahead of himself.

_But it was so hard not to._

"BamBam, I need your help." He all but begged the younger boy.

BamBam pouted at him thoughtfully, chewing on the corner of his lip as Jaebeom explained the situation. Then he calmly asked what his budget was and if Jaebeom was going to drive him.

That day, Jaebeom learned that BamBam was less of a smart shopper and more of a force of nature as he was left to trail behind the steady click of the younger boy's heels.

"Don't you worry about a thing, hyung," BamBam said, "By the time _I'm_ done, even your mother wouldn't recognize you."

He wasn't wrong.

Jaebeom looked into BamBam's floor length mirror, half aghast half in awe, unable to recognize himself. Even with all the pins sticking through the fabric, his wine-colored blazer sat smartly on his shoulders. Below that, jeans that BamBam had bought one color and dyed another, clung to his legs like a second skin. The shirt he wore with them was once two different shirts that BamBam had sliced up and temporarily frankensteined together with liquid stitch, tucked and pleated to accentuate the taper of his waist and the lines of his torso. It blocked out Jaebeom's body in mature black silk juxtaposed against bold black and navy stripes that fooled the eyes until they hit the light. On his feet were untouched black leather dress shoes filched from the depths of Mark's closet. A couple of steps away, spread out on BamBam's bed, was their best find, a handsome thick woolen coat they'd rescued from a pawn shop. It was big even across Jaebeom's shoulders and according to his roommate "made for a grandpa." But Jaebeom likes the shape of it on him, how structured and dignified it made his slouching posture and how it left only a single vivid strip of wine fabric visible when he wore it over everything else.

Jaebeom didn't typically think too much about how he looked. More accurately, he never developed the habit even when he should have. His childhood loves had been bought on borrowed time behind his mother's conspiring smile. It seemed stupid not to spend every possible second on them. Later his very brief forays into fashion were more based on what was comfortable with, or seemed interesting or fun - a philosophy that lead to an ill-advised dyed mullet phase that made Mark spam more Instagram posts in three months than he had in three years and made BamBam groan like he was in physical pain and throw his hands into the air every time he saw Jaebeom.

The young man in the mirror looked like he could have stepped right out of the TV screen, classically chic in a way that never went out of style. He could walk from a Bond set to a noir film, and his striking figure would never look out of place. The longer Jaebeom looked the more his mind erased the pins and tape, the more fantastical the too rich clothes felt on his skin. BamBam did this on 40,000 won.

To the side, BamBam looked at him with a wide smirk on his face. "Makes you feel a little Cinderella, doesn't it hyung?"

Jaebeom couldn't help a little laugh beneath his breath because...yeah, it kind of _did_. He looked, for the first time, like he could maybe stand next to even Park Jinyoung without looking like backdrop. How could he not get carried away? He spent every day until the concert walking on clouds, much to the visible disgust of everybody within 100 meters of him.

On the day of, he got a call bright and early Saturday morning, just as he was making coffee.

"Hyung? hello?" Jinyoung sounded short of breath, even over the wind that whistled around him.

"I'm here, Jinyoung-ah. What is it?"

"About today...I'm _really_ sorry. I'm going to have to cancel on you." All the sound around him disappeared, leaving on Jinyoung's wane apologetic voice in the speaker. "Work came up. It's kind of a weird situation and I really have to go."

It didn't pop exactly, whatever bubble that swelled in his chest. Rather, it dissolved softly with no force behind it, abruptly out of existence before Jaebeom had known it was gone. The space it left behind caved in to fill the difference, leaving Jaebeom's ribs feeling fragile.

"Oh," he said quietly, "I see. It's alright Jinyoung-ah. It couldn't be helped."

The other line was quiet for a moment except for two ragged breaths.

"You should still go, though," Jinyoung said at last, "I'll email you the digital tickets and passes so you can still get in. Maybe you can take another friend."

"Are you sure?" Jaebeom's fingers slipped on the phone, sweaty despite the cold. Jinyoung's voice hums at him. "Okay, okay, thank you."

"Have fun, hyung."

"I will, Jinyoung-ah, thank you." The words sounded hollow, even to Jaebeom's ears. He didn't feel that much like Cinderella anymore.

And it's weird the sort of two halves his mind separates into after that. One half threw his phone down on the bed, gritting his teeth against the bitterness in the back of his throat. The other checked his email for the tickets, knowing better than to waste probably expensive concert tickets.

Of course, he took BamBam. For once Jaebeom matched his younger friend blow for blow in the fashion department, turning just as many heads as the preening freshman as they boarded their train uptown. After a bit it became it's own weird sort of fun, strutting around like a peacock pretending to be a hundred times more confident than he actually was, like wearing an elaborate show costume.

They didn't actually make it backstage. Shamefaced employees jerked like bobblehead dolls at the convention center's back entrance, repeating their deepest apologies and promises of compensation. There had been an emergency issue, apparently. The passes would be refunded for the difference between the P1 and P2 prices on their fan club accounts, and a final fansign to be held in a few days. JB frowned at the phone. He didn't have a fan account, but hopefully, Jinyoung would get his money back somehow.

There were a few people running around in fan T-shirts giving out LED glow sticks in pink and white to match the flashing bi-colored star of their lightstick. No seat un-lighted, they insisted firmly. Others had piping hot drinks to warm their fellow fans huddling together in the snow, protecting their hands by burying them in scarves and pockets. BamBam joined them easily, dragging Jaebeom along behind him, and despite knowing no one, the fandom greeted them like old friends.

They even had good seats - in the front row just behind the pit - above the worst of the fansite cameras. Even when the lights dimmed and the poppy beats began pounding out of the speakers so loud they rattled his bones, Jaebeom had a clear view. Clear enough to see the girls rise from a platform set in the stage and Park Jinyoung in all formfitting black walking into the glow of the stage lights from behind them.

-o-

Jinyoung sighed as he ended the call, quickly swiping to his email app to send over the digital copy of the tickets. The biting cold felt like heaven on his overheated skin. He'd hoped the brisk atmosphere would slap him awake, but instead, it made his body sag more into exhaustion.

_Typical..._ just when he had no time for it.

Slapping himself with the back of his phone, Jinyoung walked back inside before he made himself sick. On a whim, he stopped by the vending machine and bought an armful of energy drinks before making his way back to the practice room. The place reeked of sweat and that peculiar mustiness you always get when you've left the heater running far too long.

For being up since five in the morning most of the boys were okay. Yugyeom and Chan especially looked barely winded. They already knew the main choreography, all they had to do now was make the necessary adjustments. Though quite a few of them were subs who never expected to see the stage, the quick retooling wasn't different enough to phase them. Their youngest few, a couple of new arrivals picked for their quick learning, weren't in such good shape. They were bent over double, breathing ragged as they forced their bodies to absorb too much information in too little time. Half of them didn't even notice Jinyoung walk up to them until he shoved the cans in their faces. When they did, they were too tired to voice any thanks, barely dipping their heads in gratitude before gingerly sipping at their drinks so they didn't choke.

The energy drink stung in a familiar way on its way down. It's been a while. He leaned against the wall and rolled his shoulder to try and relieve some of the tension.

"I'm sorry for pulling you here like this, oppa. We should have caught it sooner," Yerin said softly at his elbow. She was looking the worse for wear too, her fatigue settling into her bruised under-eyes. She was always the more delicate of the two. If even Jimin's laughing mouth had pulled tight at the corners, of course, Yerin would be feeling the worst of it.

"It's not your fault," Jinyoung said, sparing her a soft pat on the head, "Scheduling problems happen all the time. Back up dancers are always double booked, and they're fine. Jobs aren't usually split between here and _Japan_. The admins really fucked up on this one."

"Even so,"

"Yerin-ah," Jinyoung said firmly, "don't apologize for things you aren't responsible for. I _want_ to help. You're not _making_ me do anything."

Yerin nodded. There was still tension that lingered at the hinges of her jaw, but she didn't try to say more. That was as good as he could do for now.

He clapped a couple of times to beckon everyone back to the dance floor. "Come on, let's get it down right this time."

The dancers, so used to following their sunbae, wordlessly fell back into line. To the side, their one available choreographer hurried to set up the music again. Jinyoung's mind wandered as he let his body fall back into the motions of each dance.

Things were, as always, more complicated than Jinyoung was willing to admit. Of course, he genuinely wanted to help the girls. He would always want that even if it weren't 15&'s last concert or he hadn't spotted for Yugyeom long enough to know the choreo by heart. He would have dropped anything to come if they needed him. It was a loyalty beaten into him, not only by his sisters at home and the JYPE system but also by the single year of brilliance Jinyoung still clung to in his weaker moments. Letting them down was never on the table.

At the same time, _it was so nice to be on stage again_. His heart pounded out waves and waves of thunder as he threw himself into the last-minute preparations. Whether it was completely empty for rehearsals or packed to the brim with chatter and noise, the crowd roaring with fan chant, performing on stage was simply different. The platform echoed beneath his firm confident footsteps. The vibrations shook to his bones. The music was so loud it seemed to be coming from inside his own head. And the lights, _oh the lights_ , so bright they half blinded him. He could barely distinguish the shimmering spots of pink and white glitter. But what did it matter? Walking out before their glow, what could he do but dance his heart out?

He hoped Jaebeom was watching.

It wasn't until he stepped off the stage, after the last song faded away, that he regained some sense of clarity. The stage remained for the girls. The girls remained with their fans. This was their time; he had no part in it.

Instead, he pulls out his phone and quickly checks Jaebeom's brief thank you message on KKT before asking Jaebeom and his friend to meet up outside. Then he took his rinse off shower to rid himself of the smell of sweat and threw on some spare street clothes and a thick sweater. Without another thought, he scampered towards the arena's main entrance and plopped himself down between a pair of vending machines to scroll through his phone while he waited.

Twitter was already blowing up.

@15ncry: this look familiar to any of you

>   
> @goddess_jimin: DO MINE EYES DECIEVE ME??? Is YoungMin fucking ALIVE?!
> 
> @pjynim: wait I thought he wasn't an idol anymore
> 
> @15ncry: me too but CLEARLY we were wrong
> 
> @pjynim: *also JINRIN OR BUST!!!!
> 
> @rubblyducks: we be forgetting Junior's still technically an idol trainee til his cotnract is over lol

@Yerinrin: why is he hoarding attention by put himself in others' last concerts? this is about 15&

> @pjynim: He's??? not??? hoardign attention??? Just say u hate men and go
> 
> @(^. . ^ )ノparadise: they debuted together, he's probably jsut there to support them. He's not hoardign attention, he's a back-up dancer. We just noticed him with the others. Yugyeom is there too
> 
> @Yerinrin: I don't know. I think is unnecessary. He could have supported them backstage or gotten a ticket like other idols. Yet he put himself on stage for the public like this. 
> 
> @15ncry: Idk he's just one more black shirt guy dancing back-up, he didn't announce himself or anything. Maybe he just wanted to perform with his friends?
> 
> @Yerinrin: this is the last concert, it's a bad feeling
> 
> @pjynim: don't bother arguing with haters, they're not listen

@goddess_jimin: @(^. . ^ )ノparadise lol it's more than debut together, look at how he picked them up and swung them. When did JayArr get those biceps?

> @rubblyducks:   
>  *squeaky twink!jr: I'm going to work hard and become a man!  
>  *me: lol  
>  *me 5 years later: UH HUH YOU DID!!!! 
> 
> @pjynim: @goddess_jimin @rubblyducks ur thirst is showing 
> 
> @goddess_jimin: my thirst is P A R T Y I N G

With a soft laugh, he shut down the app, watching as the first few concertgoers began to trickle out.

Jaebeom wasn't hard to spot. What was hard was swallowing the lump that had instantly formed in Jinyoung's throat at the sight of him.

It felt like eons ago the last time he saw Jaebeom all dressed up back at the karaoke joint party. Once again his bangs were slicked dangerously off his forehead, leaving only a few strands to break the hairline and curl over. The cut of the black coat beneath his shoulders made them look miles wide. Beneath it flashes of wine red and the sheen of black silk added a sophisticated touch to his sharp face and hairstyle. His single long pearl earring had reemerged. Jinyoung's primal base instincts wanted to tug and bite until it came loose in his teeth.

The silver-haired boy next to him was similarly eye-catching, hemmed into a rich purple suit with big silver asymmetrical buttons. The outfit must have been sewn on next to his skin with how perfectly it fit, ending in knee-high platform boots that made his legs look impossibly long. He was vaguely familiar but Jinyoung couldn't quite remember where he'd last seen the boy's big doe eyes and plump lips.

Jaebeom was just the _worst_ kind of pretty boy magnet, wasn't he?

"Jaebeom-hyung," Jinyoung finally called once he found his voice, "over here."

"Jinyoung," Jaebeom's face broke into a smile when he turned in Jinyoung's direction, but it was oddly subdued, "you're done? Oh, you might not remember him, but this is my roommate, BamBam. He wasn't around when you came over last time."

So that's it.

"Hello BamBam-ssi, your hair was pink the last time we met," Jinyoung said offering the younger boy a hand. The freshman shook it firmly with both hands.

"Nice to see you again, hyung - can I call you that? You don't mind right?" BamBam talked very fast, despite his slight accent barely giving Jinyoung time to nod at his request. "It's awesome to see you again. You were really great on stage today, totally graceful, I was awed!"

From behind BamBam Jaebeom's face had gone red and his eyes were wide and panicky. Jinyoung had to hold himself back from laughing. Instead, he brought up his other hand to brightly thank BamBam and offered to take them both backstage. The freshman's eyes began to shine, nearly frothing at the mouth.

Never let it be said that Park Jinyoung was not a people pleaser.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to clarify, most of 15&'s backup dancers left the country with Lucky7 that morning, the scheduling conflict was that usually running between concerts is no problem (at least for this AU it happens) but whichever idiot handled it this time forgot to check that the commute would be between Korea and Japan instead of just like a couple mins across the city. 15& had some subs to save their asses but not THAT many, so they conscripted whoever was available
> 
> If you were curious I imagined the other two were Lee Minho and Han Jisung lol

**Author's Note:**

> Lol well, I was doing this for Nanowrimo and failed epically. But hey maybe someone else can have fun with it.
> 
> born from a group chat idea that got way way way too out of hand haha


End file.
